Sororitas Quest Fic
by extraheretical
Summary: A series of pieces based on a quest running on /tg/.  Chapter 14 is up, featuring a dreadnought from the Lamenters.
1. Chapter 1

A good day to all of you, these pieces are all based on the Sororitas Quest that has been running on /tg/. You can find a link to an archive of the quest in my profile. Basically, we have been fighting a massive Chaos threat with a group of...interesting Sisters. Most of the pieces can be read without any background in the quest.

I will be going into Anna and Verity's relationship.

As always, let me know what you think.

* * *

The tent was stifling hot, and smelt strongly of antiseptic with an undercurrent of blood. Verity finished applying a bandage to the thankfully superficial wound on the Sister in front of her, and gave her pauldron a pat. "It will heal quickly, but try not to put too much force on that leg for a while. Don't make me force you into bed rest," she said cheerfully.

Elizabeth sheepishly nodded her head, and wrapped her arm around Sonja for support. From what Verity had learned from the sniper, Sonja had brought the woman in after her thigh plate had cracked under a bolter round. Elizabeth had been too zealous in her assault, as usual, and had exposed herself needlessly. It had been bleeding a great deal in the field, and Sonja had coerced her into going to the Medicae. Verity had been afraid when the two had come staggering through the door, but she was relieved that the wound was nowhere near the woman's femoral artery, and had been relatively simple to patch up. She nodded in a satisfied manner as the two hobbled out of the door.

She brusquely washed her hands, and plopped into the small canvas chair that had followed her through countless campaigns. She wiped her brow with a nearby handkerchief and looked happily at the mostly empty beds of the tent. The newest campaign had been going extremely well, and the worst the unit had suffered was a concussion from a round glancing off a helmet. The Sister in question was soundly asleep, and Verity didn't need to check her symptoms for an hour or two. While she loved doing the Emperor's work, Verity always hated when she saw a wounded person walk into her tent. She mused on this for a bit, but the warmth of the tent was so soothing, and she slowly felt herself slip into a doze.

Which was then interrupted by one of her most common patients. "Hello again, Verity! How are things going for you?" Anna called with a broad smile, a mass of shattered ceramic and machinery where her pauldron used to be.

Verity sighed in irritation. Things had been going so well, she petulantly muttered to herself. Out loud, she gave Anna fierce tongue-lashing. "Again? The Emperor protects and all, but could you do me a favor and stay in cover for once?" she said, mingled irritation and concern on her face.

She reached up and grabbed the Retributor by the ear and dragged her to the table she had been using for her operations. To an outsider, the sight of a woman barely taller than five feet dragging a woman if full armor would be comical, but Anna knew well how serious Verity was when she had a patient. The Hospitaller quickly stripped Anna of her torso armor, and began to clean the area around the wound. Thankfully, the round had exploded outside of the pauldron and there were no burns or mangled flesh. Only a few lacerations from where her own armor had buckled from the hit. As she continued to clean, she glanced over Anna's heavily muscled body. The sight only made her sigh again. She addressed her patient as she picked up the thread and needle needed to sew the wound shut,"You are really collecting an impressive collection of scars. You just love making me work, don't you?"

Anna grinned cheekily. "Naturally, it allows me to drop in and say hello to my favorite Hospitaller."

Verity just growled under her breath, and quickly set to the task of fixing her patient. She spread a layer of anesthetic around the wound, and began to skillfully sew the wound up. The two slipped into a companionable silence, the only sound in the tent being the occasional hiss from Anna and a quiet hymn that the Hospitaller sung under her breath as she closed the laceration.

"Done," Verity stated simply.

She reached into her kit to grab some bandages and a cream to speed the healing. When she looked up again with the items in her hand, she quirked her eyebrow quizzically at Anna's expression. "Well?"

A slow grin spread over the Retributor's face, and Verity felt the urge to groan for what felt like the thousandth time. "Kiss it and make it better?"

Verity stared for a moment, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. With a huff and an air of wounded dignity, she swiftly leaned down and placed a light kiss on Anna's shoulder. She kept her head down to hide the flush on her cheeks, and with a tad too much haste bandaged her patient's wounds.

Jumping up happily, Anna gave a bright "Thanks!" before making for the door. If she though she could get away from the Hospitaller, though, she was woefully mistaken.

"Oh no you don't," Verity crowed with a triumphant air, "You aren't going out there and ruining my handiwork again, my dear sister. In fact, I think that I need to prescribe bed rest for my patient! Why, with all of the wounds you have suffered from, I don't want you to push yourself too hard."

With comprehension dawning too late upon her face, Anna was swiftly dragged to the cot nearest to Verity's chair, and was forcefully tucked into bed. With a stern look that dared the Retributor to try and escape, Verity sat and began to organize the contents of her medical kit. Anna sighed in defeat.

Another silence fell over the two, punctuated again by Verity's quiet singing. Anna began to nod off, the wear of the battle coupling with the warmth of the room overcoming the urge to fight against her captor. As she slowly slipped into slumber, she murmured, "Sorry to make you worry."

By the time Verity turned to respond, Anna had already fallen into a deep sleep borne of exhaustion. The Hospitaller sighed again, but this time with an amused smile on her face. "Idiot," she said quietly, with no venom behind the world. She turned back to her supplies and began humming a lilting song that was a strange blend of joy and melancholy. Around her, endless war raged. But here...this was _her_ sanctuary.


	2. Chapter 2

This one is about Tessa pining for our favorite living saint. All of my love, anon.

* * *

I slowly hefted my eviscerator. I swung the enormous weapon in graceful arcs, moving for the sixth time through the form. It was a form of meditation for me, a way to relieve stress. The time away from Esme had been tough, and I missed her terribly. On most days it was tolerable, as I had plenty of duties to attend to, but there were times when I felt a horrible sense of emptiness because of her absence. This day was certainly worst than the others, though. I had been told by Galatea that an Inquisitor was coming to investigate Esme's disappearance, and that I might very well be interviewed in determining if she was a heretic or not. I had no uncertainties about the purity of the Exalted Martyr, but trying to convince an agent of an organization who routinely destroyed planets on the barest hint of heresy the same? That was nerve-wracking.

I placed my foot firmly, dropped my stance, and swung the blade in a powerful upward strike. I smiled at the familiarity of the blow. It had always been one of Esme's favorites. I slowly lost myself in the memories of our schola days as I moved through the next series of strikes. It was the very woman I was worrying over that had taught me the form, after all.

* * *

Many of the girls from our class had come from the same obscure planet. It had been overrun by the Tyranids, and the Guard regiments and PDF forces stationed there had died while holding the horde back from the spaceport to give them enough time to launch a craft packed with children away before the planet fell. My mother was a minor officer in one of the local PDF units, and my father had been called up during one of the final rounds of the drafts the doomed planet had called. I never knew what had specifically happened, but I later learned that the fleet stationed in orbit had launched vortex torpedoes once the craft carrying the children had cleared the atmosphere. Since most of our parents had died fighting the swarm, a Schola saw fit to accept the youths. The group quickly bonded together, as they were all that they had left of their previous lives.

The training they put us through was very intense, but our group relied on each other to get through. We were all friendly, though I didn't have any specific friends for the first couple of years. When a student turned thirteen, though, the schola generally directed students towards more specialized areas of study. Along with most of the female members of our group, I chose the path for the Adeptus Soriritas. I had always been awestruck by the Sisters that taught the various classes we attended, and I was amazed at their strength and power. I wanted to be one too, and avenge my planet.

Though the training grew tougher, I felt even more determined to succeed and join the ranks of the women I so admired. The group grew even more dependent upon one another in this time, and we became almost inseparable. It was during this period that I first truly got to know Esme.

When I was fourteen, they had started us on sword training. While I was a great student, I was not as proficient with the combat portion of our training. This caused me endless amounts of grief, and I struggled mightily to keep up with the other girls in my group. I didn't want to join one of the non-militant orders, I wanted to stay with the group that had become my sisters and fight against the darkness that surrounded us. The frustration I felt with myself and the horrible sense of shame tore at my soul, but I kept up a brave face. Esme was always a perceptive woman, though, and quickly picked up on this. She kept her distance at first, though, I guess she didn't want to seem like she was intruding.

One night, though, the shame I felt was tearing at me. I had failed miserably in front of all the others at a sword drill, and had been sternly reprimanded by the ancient Sister who taught us. I was huddled in my bed, holding my pillow to my face to mask the sounds of my sobs. I couldn't hide all of the sounds, though, and a few escaped into the communal barracks that we shared. When I was almost blinded by my self-hatred, I felt a warm pair of arms wrap themselves around me. I didn't know who it was, but her presence almost immediately soothed me. I felt a stab of shame at having to be comforted like a child, but her warmth and slow rocking comforted me so much I ceased to care. She waited until my sobs quieted before asking, "What is wrong?"

I felt the familiar rush of shame again, and thought about not answering, but how could I reject her after she showed such kindness? I murmured softly, "I feel so useless. I have no problem with my studies, but I simply cannot wield a sword! How am I supposed to protect you all when I can't even fight properly?"

She pulled me closer, and rested her chin on my shoulder. She whispered, "The Emperor doesn't require us to be perfect, just to try our best. I am horrible at memorizing all of those prayers in class. You are really good at that, though, so I propose a trade."

She pulled on my shoulder, and I turned to face my savior, and recognized Esme almost immediately. We were fairly close, but I had never taken the time to know her personally. She was very beautiful though, and I was quite jealous of her at times. I must have looked surprised, because she grinned softly and said, "I know, hard to believe that I'm not perfect, huh? But here's the deal. You teach me some tricks to help me memorize those prayers, and I will work with you on that form."

She leaned in, and rested her forehead against my own. She quietly murmured, "We are sisters, after all, it's what we are supposed to do. I know you will do great."

We fell asleep like that, and I had never felt so safe and loved before. She stayed true to her word in the coming days, and during gaps between classes I would go over the prayers with her, and during our free time after classes and training she would go over the drills with me. We were both horrible at our respective failures at first, but our friendship provided enough incentive that we learned quickly. As I grew better, she taught me an ancient drill that one of the old Celestians had shown her. The grace of the thing was amazing, and I could never grow bored of her beautiful body working through the motions. I suppose I fell in love with her then.

I kept my feelings secret, though. We both had so much to worry about at the schola that I never really had the chance to truly be with her. We were inseparable friends though, and I loved spending almost all of my time with her. I came to love the sword because of the time that we spent drilling together, and I quickly grew proficient at fighting with it. I eventually became good enough that I was even complimented by some of the Sisters who taught us. On the day we graduated from the schola, we exchanged necklaces bearing the image of the saint of our order. I have cherished it always, and its comforting presence has helped me countless times.

* * *

The form came to an end with a final powerful plow. I felt an overwhelming peace envelop me, and I felt confident that I could show this Inquisitor how amazing the woman I loved really was. I slung the mighty blade onto my back, and dropped to my knees in prayer and clasped the pendant I still wore around my neck. I repeated one of the many prayers that we had gone over countless times together. It was a favorite of hers, and it was quite a beautiful litany going over the duty of a sister. The last line was the most powerful to me, though. "...and to love the Emperor, and all of his servants", I whisper, gently kissing the necklace.

I stood with a fierce determination flowing through me. I had an inquisitor to talk to.


	3. Chapter 3

An Eden/Florencia fic, approved by Slaanesh for extra servings of heresy. Enjoy, my darling ca/tg/irls and elegan/tg/entlemen. Let me know what you think.

The quest can be found at the sup/tg/ archives under the Sisters of Battle category. If you want a link, check my profile.

This piece is just smut, so if you don't like, skip ahead to the other fics.

* * *

Florencia had been having a very bad day. First, the second most holy planet in the Imperium had been attacked, then the imminent birth of a new chaos god, and now...the Inquisitor and her pet daemon were being all lovey-dovey. She growled in irritation and plopped down on a fallen block of masonry as far away from the couple as possible. She leaned forward onto the haft of her hammer, and felt weariness and annoyance wash over her. The Sisters had just pushed back another wave of the unborn god's daemons, and Florencia hadn't had a lick of sleep in 48 hours. Suffice to say, she was very cranky.

She forced her eyes open, though. She couldn't afford to sleep yet, they didn't know when the next wave would hit. To keep herself occupied, she glanced around the room, her gaze eventually settling on the form of her fellow Canoness, Galatea. She felt a familiar flush of warmth in her belly, and her irritation quickly grew. She hated that damn woman, yet felt this overwhelming attraction to her. Her grip on the hammer tightened, and she began reciting a litany to clear her mind. This was ruined when someone whispered into her ear, "I know you Sister types are not very subtle, but I'm surprised no one has noticed your attraction to her before. You are practically wearing a sign screaming it."

Florencia quickly whipped around and found herself glaring at Eden,who had a snarky grin on her face. "Shut your filthy mouth, beast, before I plant this hammer through your skull." the Canoness hissed.

Eden's smile only grew at this threat, and she decided to twist the dagger in a bit further. It wasn't often that you got beneath a Sister's skin, after all, and the others should protect her. At least in theory. "I must say, you do have good taste in women, though. Very strong, very regal, she's practically the epitome of a warrior queen. A real shame about the entire worship of the Emperor and all." she teased.

Furious did not do justice to the depth of rage that Florencia felt. Damn the consequences, this bitch was going to pay. She began to stand, and her hammer was hefted into both hands.

Eden's smirk faded slightly at this. The next few minutes were going to be quite painful, it seemed. She figured that she might as well fire one parting shot. If she was going to be maimed, then she might as well get the most fun as possible. She shifted shapes quickly, taking on the appearance of Galatea out of her armor, and said in as seductive of a tone possible, "You know that I could be her, right? You could do whatever you want."

She quickly shifted back, and braced herself for the inevitable pain. The look on Florencia's face stopped her, however. Emotions flitted over her face. Years of pining, lust, and hatred fought with the rigid code hammered into her since youth. The stress of the fighting, the lack of sleep, and the jealousy that she felt for Delessa for finding a relationship finally broke a dam that had held for decades. She grabbed Eden roughly by the shoulder, and drove her towards the catacombs behind the Sister's position. "No questions." She said in a husky voice.

They entered the tunnels, and Florencia guided the daemon without hesitation through multiple twists and turns, until they reached a small room that had avoided damage. Eden tried to turn to ask Florencia what the meaning of all this was, but she was slammed into the wall, and Florencia's fierce gaze made the questions she was about to ask die on her lips. In a voice that brooked no disagreement, Florencia ordered "You are now her. You do not talk, you do not change shapes. You are Galatea. Understood?"

The sheer intensity terrified her, but was also strangely arousing. It had been a while since Eden had been the sub in a relationship, but this was just too good to pass up. She meekly nodded, and her flesh flowed into the shape of Galatea. As she did so, Florencia removed one of her gauntlets, then quickly tangled the other hand into Eden's hair. A moment of hesitation flashed across the woman's face, but she had waited too long for such an opportunity.

To say the kiss was intense would not do it justice. Florencia's lips crushed into the warp strider's, and her heavily armored body pressed up against her. Eden lost herself in the sensation. She was surprised at how...competent the woman was. Just as she was losing herself in the heat of the moment, she suddenly felt a sharp pain as her bottom lip was nipped, and opened her mouth to protest. This was just what Florencia wanted, and she drove her tongue into the daemon's mouth, mastering her completely.

The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity, the sheer ferocity of Florencia's assault was addicting. Far too soon, however, Eden felt Florencia draw back. She was heavily panting, looking deeply into the warp spawn's eyes. The mingled adoration and hatred hit Eden like a blow, and a deep flush of arousal spread across her body. Before she could act on this, Florencia used her guantleted hand to rip the 'clothes' off of her body. What control the Canoness had faded at the sight of her greatest desire's nude form. She twisted the daemons hair and pulled back, exposing Eden's throat. Florencia then left a line of harsh bites on the exposed flesh, leading downwards towards the warp strider's collarbone. The unarmored hand began to knead her breast, the action both painful and pleasurable. Eden slowly felt her own control slip, and began to grind herself against the Sister's armored thigh. The cold ceramic was a delicious sensation against her burning flesh. She had felt many sensations in the service of Slaanesh, as well as such depraved sexual acts that mortals would go insane by just watching, but a Canoness at full steam was another league entirely.

Florencia noticed the bucking of her hips, however, and swiftly cupped her sex with her unarmored hand. This elicited a surprised gasp from Eden that swiftly turned into a low, primal moan when the Canoness began to put her fingers to work. The Sister slipped a finger in between her folds, surprisingly gentle at first, but began moving with increasing intensity. The warp strider was so close to the edge from just the foreplay, when Florencia dragged her nails across her clitoris, she her climax began to build almost immediately. As her breath began to catch in harsh gasps, Florencia drove a single digit into her, while pressing harshly against her clitoris. Her entire body bucked against the woman, but the Sister's armored frame held her firmly against the wall, and her hand maintained agonizing pressure on her sex. The Canoness' clever hand kept her at her peak for what felt like an eternity, until she finally relented when the warp strider's gasps began to turn into sobs. Eden was not sure whether to be disappointed or thankful.

When Eden's shudders finally subsided, Florencia finally noticed how aroused her own body was. She was on the verge of stripping off her armor when Eden's morph wavered, and she spoke in her own voice. "Please, let me return the favor." she husked lasciviously, her eyes clouded with lust.

Florencia felt the fire of her need swiftly turn to ash as she realized what she had done. Burning shame replaced the arousal of only seconds before, and she felt stained to her very soul. "I am tainted enough from this sin," she growled, "I do not need to put my soul any further into jeopardy. We shall never speak of this again."

The Canoness grabbed her gauntlet from where it had fallen, and turned swiftly on heel and stormed out of the small room. Eden's disguise slowly slipped, and she fell into her neutral form. This was a most interesting development. She had actually enjoyed this a great deal. A wide grin split her face as she determined that this needed to happen again. The warp strider slowly sauntered out of the room, already planning how she was going to seduce Florencia. Who knew these Sisters could be so much fun?


	4. Chapter 4

This one is about how the twins were chosen to be part of Florencia's Seraphim squad, at the personal request of His Divine Wrath, our dearest OP.

It's a bit longer than usual, so enjoy.

* * *

Carol cracked one of her eyes reluctantly. The barracks had started to come alive, the Sisters of her squad in various stages of wakening. They had all waken, of course, at an absolutely obscene hour. Their 'revered' Canoness thought that too much sleep was a sin, and came to rouse them at 5 a.m. every day. Each of the women knew that it was in their best interests to wake up at least 15 minutes before her arrival, though. If she actually caught you sleeping...Carol decided that it was too early to think of such horrors.

She reluctantly uncurled from her twin, Coral, sat up, and stretched. She grimaced as she felt how sore she was from the previous day's activities. Florencia had been ruthless in her training as usual. She leaned in and gently shook her sister, the only response being a groan and an attempt to snuggle into her warm side. Sadly, she could not afford her such luxury that morning. The Canoness was coming soon, and Carol did not want to add to the aches and pains in her back. She pinched her sister's earlobe, which at last brought her into the realm of the waking.

As Coral began to stir behind her, she watched the other women begin to prepare themselves for the day. Their squad was an odd group. There was Enya, who had an unhealthy fascination with machines, Sophie, a musclebound woman who loved poetry, Erika, a cynic who loved nothing more than to poke fun, the list went on. The Schola that they had come from had an unspoken policy to direct troublemakers, quirky individuals, and 'those who needed more guidance' towards the Ebon Chalice. The fearsome reputation that Florencia had obtained over her decades as Canoness was hoped to be enough to make proper Sisters out of the Initiates they sent her way. The twins had fallen victim to this tradition, as they had always confounded their teachers. They had an extreme attachment to one another, suffered horribly when separated, and had an eerie ability to know what the other felt. Not knowing what else to do with them, the Prioress had recommended them to serve under Florencia. The twins had been apprehensive, but had thought the stories and rumors to be exaggerations. They were sadly mistaken. Florencia seemed to take great pleasure in whipping the women she received into shape, and was unspeakably strict.

She shook herself out of her reverie. She had wasted enough time, she needed to prepare as quickly as possible. As she shed her night clothing and changed into her robes, she listened in on Sophie and Erika's usual bickering.

"The Initiates are much cuter than those Celestians you are always chasing! Look at the twins, they're like little porcelain dolls!"

Erika scoffed, and replied sneeringly, "The're just pups! A strong, mature woman is so much more attractive. Why, if I could ever get to know Florencia more intimately..."

She trailed off as the entire room glared at her. She flushed heavily and quickly turned to throwing on her robes. Sophie gave a satisfied huff, and turned to her morning preparations as well. Coral shook her head in disbelief. Not so much at Erika's antics, since everyone knew she followed the Canoness around like a puppy, but that she was so used to such events. She loved her Sisters dearly, but at times wondered if they were bad for her mental health.

She had no time to ponder over this, though, as Enya shouted for the women to get into their positions. The woman had taken on the mantle of look-out after she had jury-rigged a tripwire from a lazgun to warn of the approach of the Canoness. The women rushed to finish, and scrambled into place just as the door crashed open and a sinister figure appeared in the doorway. The entire room snapped into rigid attention as their leader swept fiercely into the room. This dramatic entrance was usual, but something was off today, Coral thought...Oh Emperor she was smiling.

"Good morning Sisters!," she practically roared, "I have excellent news! A small Ork Rok has fallen on the planet. I have personally requested that we would be the first to strike against the foul xenos! We have honor of first blood! There is no need to thank me."

The room fell into a shocked silence for a moment, before everybody quickly placed fake smiles on their faces and made various statements praising the Emperor.

"I am glad to see your enthusiasm! We leave in 10 minutes!"

She swept out of the room as quickly as she came, leaving the women to scramble towards the armory. Carol grabbed hold of Coral's hand, and pulled her through the panicked mass towards their suits. She felt her twin let go, and looked for her in the throng of Sisters. She then saw her running with two weapons cradled to her chest. Carol quirked her eyebrow, and and was responded to with a smile and a melta gun. She felt a reflexive grin grow on her face at the heavy ordnance Coral was lucky enough to pilfer. Both twins then ran to their suits and swiftly locked into their armor. With no time to even draw breath, Galatea arrived and ushered the squad towards a rhino. Things were a whirl of ceramite and power-armored limbs for a moment, and finally the claustrophobic interior of the personnel carrier.. The twins immediately claimed neighboring seats, strapped in, and released the breath they hadn't realized they held. As the squad seated themselves, nervous laughter erupted from all of their throats. The sheer ridiculousness of their morning was simply too much to bear. The vehicle began to accelerate the moment the last Sister seated herself, and soon the rocking and swaying as they traveled put most of them to sleep. Carol felt a light pressure against her pauldron. It seemed that Coral had decided to claim the snuggle that she was denied earlier that morning. She smiled indulgently, and leaned her head against her twin's. A nap sounded like an excellent idea.

* * *

The twins woke together. The rhino was bucking underneath them, and faint explosions could be heard through the thick armor. Their squad was already awake and checking their arms, each reciting various catechisms and litanies for the machine spirits of their weapons to serve them well. They smiled as they caught sight of Enya committing some unspeakable tech-heresy with her flamer. Carol looked to the melta that Coral had been able to snag. It was beautifully worked, and well maintained. She grabbed her sister's hand and gave a small squeeze to show her appreciation, and began to go through the rites to please the machine spirit of the venerable device. Coral began to do the same with the bolter she had grabbed. Her intention on the choice of weapons was clear. She would cover her sister while using the relatively short-ranged melta.

As the twins finished with their weapons, Sophie began to sing a simple hymn. The rest of the Sisters joined in, as much for asking the Emperor for protection as to calm their nerves. Another hymn followed the first, and the atmosphere of the rhino became more calm. All too soon, however, the rocking of the transport began to slow, and the explosions grew louder. A final prayer was said, and they at last arrived at their destination. The rear hatch fell with a clang, and the squad quickly bailed out of the vehicle. Other squads had already arrived, and more came every instant, so they grew the joined the growing crowd in front of Florencia's immolator. The Canoness struck quite the figure wrapped in her cloak and wielding her mighty hammer. As the last squad sprinted into position, she addressed the assembled women.

"We have caught them before they could sally from their downed ship, praise the Emperor! Our plan is simple. We drive right up the center, find the warboss, and purge the foul beast. With no leader, the invasion will stall before it even begins, and we can swiftly hunt down the rest of the green-skins. Suffer not the xenos to live, Sisters!"

The assault then began in earnest. The various squads formed under their Celestians and Prioresses, and began to pick their way through the wreckage. The twin's own squad was directed towards the center of the ship to secure the flank, while most of the force moved towards the bridge. They met only scattered resistance as they leapfrogged through various pieces of cover. The bulk of the force didn't seem to share their luck, however. Carol heard the sound of weapon discharges from their direction begin almost immediately when they split from them. She offered up a quick prayer of protection for her fellow Sisters as she sprinted towards what had been an engine.

She threw herself behind the block of machinery, and peeked around the corner. She swiftly withdrew her head, though, as she saw a sizable group of the green-skins rooting through the wreckage. She clicked on her vox, and relayed the position of the beasts to her squad, and Enya broke from cover to join her behind the engine. She gave a rakish grin, and patted her modified flamer. The woman turned the corner, braced herself, and released a torrent of flame in the direction of their enemy. The rest of the squad had begun to lay down covering fire, but Enya's handiwork was impressive. The area where the orks had been was a roiling inferno of flames, and only a few stragglers needed to be dispatched. Carol looked in wonder at the tech-fetishist, and got a wide, beaming smile in return. "If you widen the nozzle and play around with the pressure of the fuel, you can get some fun results."

The squad continued its movement through the ship, meeting only occasional resistance that was swiftly overwhelmed. The sounds of the fighting from their right deepened and grew fevered in pitch, however, and Carol began to worry. From what she could catch from other vox channels, the orks were putting up fierce resistance. The squad seemed to share her worry, and began to pick up their pace. Suddenly, a mass of fire ripped through the air above their heads, and all of the women quickly dropped into cover. Carol threw herself behind a shattered bulkhead, and smiled as her twin joined her. She reached over and and gave her hand a squeeze, and popped her head over the twisted metal to see what faced them.

It seemed that one of the anti-air turrets had not been destroyed in the crash of the rok, and the orks had converted it to cover an approach towards the bridge. The scrap metal device had what appeared to be four massive barrels that threw a withering torrent of shells. She ducked into cover as a round spacked the metal only a few inches from her head. Their squad was completely pinned, and the enormous racket of the gun was sure to draw more of the beasts. Carol looked down to her melta, and realized what she had to do. She clicked on her vox, and rapidly outlined her plan, "I need all of you to cover me. I see a small corridor near me that I can use to make my way to the flank of the gun, and I can destroy it with my melta."

She got a series of confirmations, and made ready to sprint towards the dark opening of the corridor that ran parallel to their position. Coral moved into position next to her, and gave her a thumbs up. Carol smiled, then threw herself forward as Sophia's bolter opened up. The twins darted around pieces of wreckage, the combined fire of their squad thankfully drawing the orks attention away from them. It was relieving, though, when they finally reached the corridor and dived into cover.

They huddled for a moment, catching their breath. When her breathing slowed, she clicked her vox on again, "We reached it. Just lay low for now."

She glanced at Coral, who nodded, and they began to move through the dark passage. They heard the ork gun open up again, and hurried as quickly as they could through the twisting hallway. They slowed as an opening appeared ahead of them, and the sound of the gun grew almost deafening. Coral slipped around her twin, and seated her bolter firmly into her shoulder. Carol followed behind her, and flicked the safety off of the gun while whispering to its machine spirit.

Suddenly her twin's bolter barked, and Carol sprinted to get through the doorway. She passed the cratered corpse of the ork that Coral had laid low, and broke into the sunlight. She nearly stopped in surprise as she saw how close to the gun she was, but quickly recovered and leveled the weapon that she carried. "For the Emperor," she whispered.

She pulled the trigger, and the sound the melta issued was surprisingly quiet. This was in marked contrast with what it did to the ork emplacement. The metal twisted and warped, and seemed almost alive as it writhed. The beast that manned the gun briefly screeched as it caught on fire, but quickly quieted. Coral appeared next to her, and clapped her pauldron in celebration. She was about to speak into the vox to report her victory when she heard a horrifying screech. She watched as the structure above them began to twist and fall, and saw too late the column that had supported the floors above them that she had shot through when she had attacked the emplacement.

Coral grabbed her by her pack, and dragged her to the corridor again, and they dived into the shelter not a moment too soon, as the ceiling collapsed and blocked the entrance. She shakingly stood and thanked her sister, and replied to the panicked vox traffic that was being directed towards them. "We are fine, the ceiling missed us. We can't get back to you, though, so just move on ahead without us. We will work our way through these passages and try and hook up with you."

She smiled as Erika growled over the vox, "Don't you dare get hurt. I just started to like you two, so I won't forgive you if you die."

Carol grabbed her twin's hand, and began to make her through the twisting passages. As they progressed, she holstered her melta and drew her fighting knife. The gun would be useless in these tight quarters, and she was more likely to do harm then any good with it. Coral saw her motion, and took point, her bolter rising to deal with any threats. They soon reached an intersection, and Carol motioned for her twin to stop. The perpendicular hallway was wider than the one they had been on, and seemed to run in the direction of where their sisters were. Coral nodded, and they turned into the wider hallway, and began to move again.

Carol was surprised at how little resistance they met. They had met only a few orks along the way, and most of those were quite small and weak in comparison to the ones they had fought outside. They were quickly taken care of by Coral's bolter, and their progress was swift. As they continued down the hallway, it widened. Many other passages seemed to lead into and merge with the one they had been travelling through, almost like streams into a river. It finally dawned on Carol. They were on spine hallway that led to the bridge! "Coral! We are nearly there. If we continue down this way, we are sure to run into the rest of our Sisters!"

Their hearts lightened at this, as they had been worried that they were completely lost. With renewed determination in their stride, they pushed further into the ship. Their enthusiasm quickly slipped when they reached a turn. The corridor ahead of them was a charnel house, the broken bodies of orks laying everywhere, and the distant sound of battle could be heard. Amongst the piles of green, they caught a few glimpses of the black of their order, though they were greatly outnumbered by the slain orks. They picked their way through the corpses, trying not to slip on the blood slicked ground. The carnage grew only worse the further they pushed, and the harsh reports of bolters and the hymns of their Sisters became audible. With the fighting close, the twins hurried, and rounded a corner with their weapons drawn.

Mayhem greeted them. They had finally reached the bridge, and the battle was in full swing. A firing line of Sisters were holding back a massive orkish horde, while Florencia's escort of Seraphim were locked in mortal combat with massive orks that could only have been nobz. Florencia herself was locked in combat with the warboss, an enormous creature that was an insane mixture of scrap metal and muscle. Both the Canoness and the ork leader bore wounds from the duel, though the warboss seemed to have taken the worst of it. His mighty armor had been breached in many places, an arm was a mangled wreck, and the joints of one of his mechanical legs was seizing and leaking a thick oil. As they watched, though, the boss dodged Florencia's blow, and landed a mighty strike to her midsection. He began to stomp over to the prone woman, a sneering grin on the thing's face.

The twins acted almost without thinking. Coral raised her bolter and emptied the entire magazine at the damaged leg. The bolts punched through the weakened material, nearly severing the appendage. The boss' face slammed into the ground as he fell, completely surprised by the attack from his flank. Carol sprinted forward, unholstering her melta. She only had one shot, and she prayed to the Emperor that it counted. She flicked the safety off, and as the beast raised its enormous head to send a glare of pure hatred at her, she pulled the trigger.

The air in front of her weapon grew hazy, and the warboss' organic parts caught fire. The mechanical parts fused together, and melted into puddles of sludge. He loosed one final, mighty roar, and fell once again, this time for good.

Carol couldn't believe it. It had actually worked! Coral joined her side in an instant, and they both ran to help their Canoness. Around them, the horde wavered and broke, the death of the warboss throwing the orks into disarray. The Sisters quickly moved to butcher the fleeing beasts, shouting praise to the Emperor.

By the time they had reached Florencia, she was already on her feet and removing her crushed breastplate. She gave a wide smile to the approaching twins, and strode towards both. Both Carol and Coral stopped, not expecting this turn of events. Before they could make up their minds and flee, their leader had reached them, and encircled them both in a mighty hug.

"You two were sent by the Emperor himself! Reaching that beast had already wore me out, and he had me on the ropes. Quickly, tell me your names!"

"Carol and Coral, Canoness, but..."

They were cut off before they could continue, "You must be rewarded for you actions this day! Ah, I have it! I will take you both into my squad of Seraphim! It is the highest honor I can give!"

She gave them both a resounding clap on the back, and turned to pick up her hammer. She quickly strode into the fight, a Hospitaller desperately trying to prevent her from causing herself any more wounds. The twins' knees gave out, and they sunk to the deck of the bridge as their squad caught sight of them and rushed over, yelling their congratulations.

The twins stared blankly off into the distance, and Carol murmured, sounding as if she was in a horrible dream, "We are in her personal squad..."

Coral responded, "Which means we will be spending every waking hour with her."

When their squad reached them, both of the twins were crying.


	5. Chapter 5

This one covers the meeting of Delessa and Filigree from our favorite daemonette's point of view. Enjoy your heresy, anon.

* * *

Filigree carefully squeezed the ring of silver, closing the gap so the link would stay on the opulent necklace she had been working on. No one had requested it, of course, they were too 'busy' elsewhere, but it had been awfully dull of late. She was a daemonette of curiosity and artistic ability, but the Palace of Pleasure had been slowly changing of its focus over the centuries that she had been there, and her services and creativity were in low demand. Everybody was into sex, drugs, and rock and roll now, which was fine and all. You can only attend so many incomprehensibly huge orgies and endless drug binges before things start to get boring, though. She had decided to start up her favorite craft again to try and relax herself, and eke out a bit of pleasure.

She flinched as a pack of the new girls stampeded past her, screeching their heads off. She shook her head, and looked back to the piece she was working on. Damn it! She had reflexively closed her claws, and the damn thing was mangled. "Fucking soft metals," she muttered in irritation as she cut the ring and began to untangle the link from her work.

As she was fuming, one of the pack that had passed had stopped, and was staring at her. A brief glare was the only reward for her action. "Would you want to join us?" the young one asked hesitantly.

Filigree released her pent up breath in a snort. "Sorry about that, I'm in a bit of a bad mood. I'm fine, go on and have some fun," she said in a gentle tone.

The thin waif nodded eagerly and scampered off to join her comrades in whatever debauchery they were up to. Filigree began to feel her age really hit her in comparison to the little one's enthusiasm. She had been in the Palace for so long that everything was becoming predictable, and she was swiftly becoming jaded. Sure, the entire pleasure and sensation shtick was great, but it was rare for anything truly groundbreaking or interesting to happen. It had gotten so bad, she realized, that it had been a full day since she had last had sex!

She grumbled as she slowly worked the warped wring free, careful not to disturb the rest of the delicate links. She was one of the artistic daemons, and her kind was growing rarer as Slaanesh's focus shifted towards the more physical pleasures. Many of the daemons that she had known had given up their crafts entirely, and it saddened her greatly. Filigree's greatest joy was to get a hold of a good mystery novel, or to wonder over a painting or statue, and try to guess its meaning. Everybody was too busy with either screwing themselves silly or working on the plan that she had heard endless rumors of to create these things, though. She growled in even deeper irritation. She _needed _mental stimulation, and its lack was tearing at her. They wouldn't even tell her any of the grand scheme to titillate her either, since she was just a lowly daemonnete.

She finally got the ring free, and exhaled deeply. She was getting too worked up about this, she decided. She would just focus on the necklace instead. As she picked up a ring to replace the one that she had discarded, though, she was interrupted again.

Another pack of screeching daemonettes came charging down the hall. Filigree whipped her head up, and was about to give them a firm tongue-lashing, when she noticed peculiarities amongst the group. Each of the daemons had shifted into shapes designed more for combat than aesthetics, and the pheromones they released reeked of adrenaline and battle stimulants. She felt a deep stirring inside of herself. It had been so long since she had left the Palace, and so long since she had tasted the exhilaration of combat. She looked to the necklace that she had been making, cast it to the ground, and joined the writhing group.

The overwhelming sensation of the crowd was amazing, and she swiftly lost herself in the ebb and flow of emotion that washed over her. She felt her own body change in reaction, and the delicate claws used for manipulating the soft metal she had been working on grew large and heavy. Her body became stockier, and great masses of muscle began to form in her to increase her strength and speed. The joy she felt was beyond reckoning. At long last, new sensations!

She noticed the crowd slowly quiet around her, and she pulled herself out of her reverie to see the cause. A mighty Keeper of Secrets stood before them, and began to speak in a low, sonorous purr.

"I am sure you have all heard the rumors. An...agent of ours has developed a wondrous device. One that allows us to form warp portals wherever we like. You have the honor of being the ones to test it, as well as to fight our hated enemies, the Sisters of Battle."

Filigree felt her blood pulse at the name. She had always liked fighting them, and their beautiful armor was a much better sight than the ugly marines. More blood pulsed through her body, but a tad lower at the thought of what she could do if she captured some of them. She had always been partial to women, seeing as how they were the fairer sex. Men were simply too ugly, and not at all complicated in pleasing like women. Also, she smugly thought, why would you waste such a dexterous tongue like her's pleasuring a man? The idea of nabbing one of those fierce women and breaking her was simply overwhelming. Her grin nearly split her face in half as she got taken up in her fantasies. Today was getting better and better!

When the portal cracked the air in the room, she piled out along with the rest of the screeching pack, and looked eagerly around for a target. What met her eyes sorely disappointed her. The other daemonettes were being ripped apart by well placed fire from, she sighed in disappointment, drab looking guardsmen. Wait! Who was that behind it? She eagerly charged forward, dispatching the nasty little guardsman standing between her and her prize. A woman, wearing all kinds of shiny bits! The pleasure of finding her was swiftly ruined by the entire getting shot thing, though. Filigree dropped to the ground, the pain both overwhelming and quite enjoyable. When she focused enough to try and look up, though, the strange woman was already looming above her with the pistol swinging towards her face. "Why the face?" she internally whined.

* * *

The sounds of yelling greeted her when she awoke. "Really?" she complained to herself. She felt the mother of all headaches coming on, and this noise really wasn't helping things. She hissed, and slowly opened her eyes to see who the annoying little mother...Oh! It was her! Before she could say anything, though, the woman walked out the door. Confused, and not a little irritated, Filigree chafed at her bonds. By Slaanesh's giant codpiece, why the hell was she here and not materializing back in the warp? She began spewing a foul stream of curses as she tried to figure it out. It clicked quickly in her head. Information! Of course. She looked forward to bandying words with this strange person, and this situation was quickly becoming interesting. She almost bounced in her seat she was so excited.

That feeling lasted for less than a minute. She began to grow worried, and increasingly frustrated at the woman who had captured her. Why wasn't she here? Filigree was almost bouncing off the walls in energy, and she was held captive with nothing more interesting to do than stare at a door!

After five minutes, she began to shake with repressed urges. She longed to just KNOW something! Anything! The woman became almost a religious figure in her mind, something to keep herself occupied. What she wanted, what she would say, all of the banter they would have flitted through Filigree's mind.

When the door opened, Filigree nearly cried tears of joy. Sensation at last! The woman calmly grabbed a chair, and the daemon eagerly awaited the start of what would certainly be an entertaining exchange. Her captor's grin was worrisome, though. Filigree waited, her concern swiftly deepening. Oh no. No no nonononnoNO.

The first five minutes weren't too bad, at least in comparison to when she was totally alone. She could look at the woman and enjoy her fine features. As well as imagining the lewd things that they could do, of course. As the minutes stretched on, though, she felt panic began to claw at her. The despair from her time in the Palace, the lack of stimulation in the fight, and now this accursed WAITING were ripping at her mind. She wasn't even aware she had actually said anything until the woman had blessedly responded to her. A name? She felt apprehension at giving her name, as knowing a daemon's true name granted power, but she was too desperate to care.

She nearly wept as she spoke the name in the daemonic tongue, adding a translation almost as an afterthought. The woman, an Inquisitor she finally noticed, the I pendant a dead giveaway, gave a trite compliment to her name. She bristled at the backhanded insult attached to the end of it, and sneered at the woman. "I'll have you know that I am very deserving of my name!" she growled, an insult to the craft that she held so dear a dire mistake.

The woman asked about their presence on the ship, and Filigree gleefully launched into one of the tirades that she had crafted in her head while waiting. She grinned, thinking herself victorious, when she noticed the inquisitor standing. By Khorne's atrophied balls NO!

She gushed out what little she knew, which obviously did not give the woman what she wanted. Filigree grew interested, though. Not only was this woman attractive, she was also going to be working at thwarting the plot. Filigree felt an almost orgasmic rush of excitement. She could finally figure it out! A thousand times better than a mere mystery novel! The inquisitor herself also began to grow on her. She was obviously a curious person too, and quite attractive. Filigree felt a growing realization. She couldn't go back yet. This was just too good to give up.

She threw the one card she had up her sleeve. Threatening hundreds of worlds would be sure to get her attention, and from what she had heard from the rumors, not entirely untrue. The inquisitor seemed to have bought it, and Filigree felt another surge of joy. When she left the room and returned with the binding equipment, the daemon could have sworn that she had a small orgasm. Things really were looking up! An inquisitor, a galaxy-spanning plot, and said inquisitor to seduce? Filigree's trademark grin split her face. Slaanesh only wished he were so lucky!


	6. Chapter 6

Some Elizabeth and Sonja love, since I seem to have a theme of giving everybody a waifu.

I wrote this in one go, though, so I might edit it a wee bit later.

Enjoy, and tell me your thoughts.

* * *

The rhino transport rocked underneath the Sisters as Elizabeth and Sonja engaged in their traditional pre-battle debate. "Aw, come on, 10 points for a squad leader is way too much," Elizabeth whined.

Sonja huffed indignantly, "Well, this one is going to be full of easy targets for you, I need to balance it out somehow."

The others in the vehicle grinned as they watched the proceedings continue. Every mission, without fail, the two would always bicker like two old women bartering prices at market. The deal was eventually cemented, with a cultist giving one point, a sergeant seven points, and a major leader giving fifteen. The Sisters leaned forward expectantly, eager to see the best part of the entire affair. Since Sonja had won last time, it was Elizabeth's turn to choose the prize. The woman tapped her chin thoughtfully, and a wide grin split her face, "Alright, I'm still sore over that last loss. So I propose an all or nothing bet. Whoever wins this, the loser has to follow her instructions for a full day."

The rest of the women held their breaths expectantly as Sonja mulled the proposal over, and broke out into cheers as she gave a sharp nod in agreement. Good-natured jokes and double entendres were tossed around, and Elizabeth sat back into her seat with a satisfied smile on her face. As their transport sped to the field of battle, she let her mind wander back over how the entire contest had started.

* * *

When both she and Sonja were still in the Schola, they had been fierce rivals. Elizabeth had bristled at the other's perpetually calm demeanor, and was furious at how well she did at both her studies and combat training. Sonja in turn felt annoyed at how noisy, overly-energetic, and popular Elizabeth was. They became fierce rivals in almost every respect, and the contest had been born when both declared that they would score better than the other at an exceedingly difficult test. The prize was relatively small, the winner had rights to the loser's dessert for a week, but both threw themselves into studying, determined to beat the other. Ironically, they received the same score, which infuriated both. The two agreed to extend the competition to other areas, each unflinching in her desire for victory. The teachers had at first looked on with worry at this new development between the two, but had decided that it was beneficial to both of their studies, and decided to not fix what was not broken.

The competition began to take over almost all aspects of the girl's lives, and the prizes began to escalate in scale. At first, it was small things like dessert or homework. It eventually worked its way up to a memory that Elizabeth held in fond regard. Watching a deeply blushing Sonja dart across the Schola drilling ground in nothing but her underwear had been exceedingly satisfying.

As they grew older, though, the women began to respect each other. Elizabeth blossomed into a fierce fighter, and her mastery of the flamer was truly something awe-inspiring. Sonja's calm demeanor served her well in her chosen role as sniper, and her record on the firing range had yet to be bested. The competition became more good-natured, and the embarrassing prizes were phased out. When they both graduated and joined the same Order of the Sisterhood, the tradition had continued on their missions. They of course did not allow it to interfere with their duties, but found a way to incorporate it in without disrupting their missions for the most part.

Their Sisters had found the contest odd and a tad annoying at first, but it eventually found acceptance amongst the ranks. It had progressed to the point now where the competition had become almost a spectator sport amongst some squads. As the two women became closer while they fought together in the same squad, the prizes became more...risque. Elizabeth had felt a growing attraction to the sniper, and her affections seemed to have been returned. It had started innocently enough, with the prize being a kiss from the loser, but it had started a massive chain reaction. With the kiss, Elizabeth had a revelation. She was actually attracted to Sonja, and it wasn't just admiration of battle-prowess that made her appreciate the sniper's lithe body. Both of the women began a slow escalation of the prizes. Elizabeth had still shuddered in pleasure when she remembered the last prize that Sonja had claimed. The 'full body massage' that the heavy weapons specialist had been subjected to had been...intense.

* * *

Elizabeth was shaken out of her reverie as the rhino screeched to a halt and its rear hatch clanged against the ground. The Sisters quickly poured out of their venerable transport, and passed through the lines of the Arbites and local PDF. The women's role was fairly simple. The local forces would hold a cordon around the abandoned undercity block that a cult had claimed as its territory. Her squad would flush the cultists into the kill zones of their allies, and take care of any points of heavy resistance. Elizabeth snorted as she hefted her flamer. It was almost a waste of the talents of the squad, but she wasn't going to complain about doing the Emperor's work. The women split up, keeping a spacing of roughly 100 meters between each other. There was no need for them to bunch up, and the Sisters wanted to cast a wide net for the cowards who were hiding in the derelict buildings. Elizabeth gave a mocking salute as Sonja climbed up the skeleton of a elevator tube that led to the surface, trying to find a good place to cover the rest of the women from.

Elizabeth took up a position near the middle of the line, and made her way through the twisting streets, eagerly hunting for a group to douse in flames to gain an early lead. She growled as she heard the distinctive bark of Sonja's rifle, followed by a vox message that Elizabeth could _hear_ the grin behind, "Ooh, wow, I think his head went 30 meters, at least. He was wearing some nice armor, so seven points, my dear, you'll need to hurry up."

Her pace doubled, and she turned a corner a bit too quickly. The group of roughly nine men in ratty robes festooned with various symbols to the dark gods looked just as shocked as she felt. Elizabeth had a quicker trigger finger than they did, though. A massive gout of promethium covered them before they could react, and she cackled as she passed them. Heretics were always her favorite enemy, and the fact that she was ahead of Sonja only helped matters. She clicked her vox on and transmitted her victory to the sniper. All she got was a non-committal grunt, followed by another harsh crack as the rifle fired again.

The pattern continued as the Sisters moved deeper into the crumbling city. Elizabeth would find a group and recklessly charge in and use her flamer to deadly effect, while Sonja would pick off any fools brave enough to expose their heads. Elizabeth was growing nervous at how close their score was. Sonja was keeping up a consistent tempo with her kills, and the heavy weapons specialist was just barely edging the sniper out. Elizabeth paused as she passed a house, as she heard speech issuing from the bottom floor. She stealthily peaked through a windowsill, and saw a mass of traitors, listening raptly to a man who's higher quality clothing spoke of leadership. Yes! Just what she needed to pull ahead of Sonja, a seven pointer! As she prepared to loose a stream of flame, though, she heard the distinctive crack, and groaned as the man reading crumpled, most of his head missing. Killing the rest of the heretics was nowhere near as fun, especially when she heard Sonja click on the vox and give a cheery, "Thanks!" for finding her such a nice target.

Once Elizabeth had purged the last of the group, she moved to the street again and made a rude gesture in the general direction of a cluster of high buildings 50 meters back. Of course the woman was tailing her, the dirty cheat. Her irritation gave way to a mischievous grin, though, as she decided to make the sniper work for her points. Elizabeth broke into a sprint, and barreled down the streets, sending a quick burst of fire at any heretics she encountered. Sadly, the pickings were a bit scarce, as most of the fools had made a break for the catacombs. She grinned at the thought of what awaited them at the outskirts of the city, and nearly didn't notice her surroundings. She stopped short as she entered what must have been the town square a few millenia ago. She ducked behind a crumbling wall, and peered at a heavily fortified mansion that dominated the open space. This looked promising. There were masses of the dirty looking heretics just waiting to be purged! Elizabeth couldn't help but cackle. Her plan to throw off that meddlesome sniper had worked better than she had expected.

She moved the knob that controlled the amount of promethium released to increase the flow, recited a brief litany, and sprinted for most heavily guarded portion of the house. She almost felt sorry for the traitors as they scrambled to grab their weapons and bring them to bear. Her imposing frame must be horrifying. She gave a mental shrug as she pulled the trigger and hosed the entire front portion of the house in a roiling inferno of flame. No need feeling sorry for those who had turned their backs on the Emperor. She grinned as she kicked down the door and stormed to the higher level. She must have picked up at least twenty points from that last assault. She punched through a few heretics that tried to block her, her powered fists reducing them to a pulp with minimal effort. Her grin widened as she saw a door with the foul eight-pointed star. Whatever was in there was sure to be worth killing!

She kicked open the door, and looked with relish upon the fearful faces of the pack of heretics that she found. They were clustered around what appeared to be a planning table, and the room had a commanding view of the courtyard through some massive windows. Her eyebrows shot up as she saw the face of what could only be the cult leader, his features matched that of the reports her squad had been given almost exactly. Ha, fifteen points! Victory was hers. With a fierce roar of, "For the Emperor!" she pulled the trigger of the flamer one last time.

And received a resounding click, and dejected hiss. Oh, that was what the blinking light in her helmet meant. She had been too excited to notice that her flamer was out of fuel. The heretics responded surprisingly quickly, launching themselves over the table at her, hoping to drag her to the ground with sheer numbers. Elizabeth sneered, and prepared to throw herself at the head priest. If she could kill him, she might be able to route the rest. She was interrupted as her vox clicked on, and Sonja's voice sternly yelled at her, "Jump out the window, NOW!"

More out of instinct than conscious thought, Elizabeth obeyed, and sprinted past the group, punching one of the faster cultists as she passed, and threw herself through one of the huge windows. As she turned in the air and fell, she saw a grenade elegantly arc through the air. She couldn't help but giggle in appreciation as the explosive clocked the leader squarely in the skull. She dropped too quickly to see any more, and her heavy bulk crashed into a bush that had somehow survived the inferno she had unleashed earlier. She watched, slightly dazed, as the top floor dissapeared with a thunderclap followed by a gust of flame.

She was still watching the debris fall as Sonja pulled her upright. Elizabeth broke into an enormous smile, and enveloped the sniper in a crushing hug. "Thank you so much! We got the leader! That was a close one, though! I let my zeal blind me, as always and..." she trailed off as she pulled back and looked into Sonja's face.

Sonja bore a grin of her own. Aw, Emperor damn it. The sniper disengaged from the hug, and began to count on her fingers, "That must have been a group of at least fifteen, one point each, the leader for another fifteen points, and I'll take twenty for saving your hide. Fifty points. I think that should put me well ahead of you."

Elizabeth hung her head in defeat. There was no use arguing, Sonja had clearly won. She was about to admit defeat, when her mistress for a day cupped her chin, and lifted her head. The kiss was breath taking, and Elizabeth couldn't help but moan in the sniper's mouth as the woman deepened the kiss. All too soon, however, Sonja pulled back, and looked the pyromaniac in the face. "My room. 2000 hours. Come in something...comfortable."

Elizabeth couldn't help but stare as the object of her affection walked down the street, a seductive sway in her hip. She felt herself blush as she imagined what her fate would be later that evening. Maybe losing wasn't so bad, she decided, as she picked up a discarded weapon and trotted after Sonja.


	7. Chapter 7

Greetings all, sorry for the wait. There was some drama with the quest, and I wanted to lay low for a while.

This one is about Delessa trying to prove to Rodwen that humans aren't completely bad, with of course entertaining results.

Enjoy, and let me know if you have any complaints.

* * *

Delessa reclined into a chair on the bridge of her ship, and lit a fine cigar that she had been saving for a special occasion. She figured that the defeat of a new Chaos god was as good a reason as any to celebrate. She propped her feet on a console, which she was sure would have her declared a heretic if any of the resident tech-priests saw her, but she was in too good of a mood to care. She took a few careful puffs to catch the tobacco, and took a long, appreciative drag to get the true flavor. She sighed contentedly. It was so nice to rest after all of the drama and terror of the past few weeks.

She was broken out of her contented rest by a very loud and disdainful sniff from behind her. With a sigh, she slowly wheeled around to address the only one who could ruin such a lovely mood so quickly. "Good evening, Farseer," she said resignedly.

The Eldar in question stood before her, the farseer's expression in its normal sneer of mingled disgust and superiority. Before Delessa could continue, and hopefully cut off the rant that she knew was coming, Rodwen immediately began to rapidly speak. "Why are all mon-keigh's habits so disgusting? The smoke from those infernal things is so dank..."

The inquisitor began to space out at that point, and nodded in appropriate places. These little lectures had been all too common after the destruction of the slumbering god, and Delessa could probably recite her own 'crimes' by heart at this point. Since she had been called to a duty that had brought her close to where the craftworld was located, the farseer had insisted on escorting them back. Her excuse had been to protect the foolish mon-keigh from hurting themselves, but Delessa was sure that there was some deeper motive. She had accepted out of a hope to make allies of the fickle xenos and possibly see what Rodwen was after, but she was truly beginning to regret her decision. As the farseer finally began to run out of steam, Delessa decided to try a gambit to end these rants once and for all. "You always seem to focus on the most negative of the aspects of human culture, but have you ever seen the best?" she interjected.

Rodwen paused and blinked in surprise, obviously caught off guard by the question. She replied slowly, unsure of where the inquisitor was going with her question. "What do you mean by the best? Your feeble attempts..."

Delessa quickly responded before the farseer could launch into another scathing analysis of human culture. "I need to stop by a planet on our route to check with some contacts who are investigating a Slaaneshi cult. Since we are going to stop there anyway, how about me taking you to see some of the good and beautiful things about humanity? It's a hive world, so its sure to have _something_ that will impress you."

Rodwen's face grew pensive, and she crossed her arms over her body. A few moments later, she gave a sharp nod, and raised her chin haughtily into the air. "I will accept your invitation, Inquisitor. Though I highly doubt that you will be able to change my mind, I trust you, and will give you the benefit of the doubt. Let me know when we reach the planet."

She turned and glided out of the room, but paused at the doorway. She turned slightly, with a slight smirk on her face, and threw a final comment over her shoulder. "And I'm curious as to what your race calls your 'good side'."

She then swiftly disappeared, though Delessa could hear her tinkling laughter as she passed through the hall. The inquisitor released her pent up breath, and sagged back into the chair. She honestly didn't know what to do with that damn xenos. One moment she was polite and inquisitive, and the next she was ruthlessly criticizing everything humans did. She raised her cigar to get a few puffs and relax, but noticed that most of it had turned to ash while she had been listening to the farseer. Grumbling fiercely under her breath, she lit a cigar of a more common vintage, and vowed to defeat the infernal Eldar woman.

* * *

The Aquila shook around Delessa and Rodwen as it made its way through the atmosphere. The faint roar of their passage made conversation difficult, so Delessa contented herself with looking at the farseer. The woman in question had disguised her identity by using some of her warp magic, taking on the guise of a minor noble woman. Delessa had to give it to her, the redhead was quite stunning in the green dress that she had chosen. As for herself, she was quite pleased with how her outfit had turned out. She had brought out her fancy long coat. The damn thing was almost embarrassing in its profusion of gold braid, but it fit perfectly with the foppish fashion that was common on the planet they were approaching.

The noise decreased as they slowed down to land, and Delessa took the chance to talk to the farseer. "I had to pull some strings, but I got us some tickets to go to a ballet. It's a kind of ritualized dance, so I'm sure you'll appreciate it. From what I've heard, the troupe that is putting on tonight's show is famous throughout the sector."

Rodwen raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Pulled some strings?"

Delessa grinned cheekily and replied, "It's nice having dirt on nobles. The performance was completely sold out, but I got us a private box. I figured I would make your life a little easier. No need to rely on your disguise if we don't need to."

The farseer gave an appreciative nod. "My thanks for being so considerate, however," she smiled teasingly, "Choosing to start this escapade with blackmail isn't helping your cause of showing me the good side of humanity."

The inquisitor shrugged, "I figured that you wouldn't have too many objections to it, though. As you Eldar are so fond of saying, 'The end justifies the means.'"

Rodwen laughed, "I'll give you that. Well played, Inquisitor, but we shall see if these dancers can match up to their fame."

* * *

Delessa buried her head in her hands. Suffice to say, the ballet had fallen short of Rodwen's expectations. She had spent the entire time so far mocking the entire affair. Whether it was the dancers, orchestra, or even the scenery, nothing escaped her sharp tongue. She was still sharply whispering her latest criticism.

"...and this prima dona they so touted! She has about the grace of an ork! Her jumps are sub par, and her movements are choppy and exaggerated, and don't even get me started on the..." she paused as Delessa held up her hand.

"Fine, I've failed. Just let me enjoy the rest of the show, please," she asked resignedly.

The Eldar woman huffed, crossed her arms, and gazed haughtily at the stage. Delessa sighed internally, and tried to ignore her. The ballerinas were amazing, and she had been enjoying their preformance immensely, but she supposed that they could never match the natural grace of an Eldar. She ran through some options in her mind. She could give up, but she had to avenge the wasted death of her cigar. A play? No, they were nothing compared to harlequins. Architecture? No, nothing that the bonesingers couldn't beat. An orchestra? Definitely not, they would probably get kicked out with all of her whispering. An art exhibit? She perked up at this thought. Maybe. Art was all about expression and energy, which humans are all about, there must be something there that would impress her! She sat back with a satisfied smile on her face, and resolved to enjoy the rest of the ballet.

* * *

She hung her head in despair as they moved through the exhibits. It seemed that not even the energy of human artists could hold up to Rodwen's expectations. The moment they had walked through the doors, the usual tirade had started up at full force. "How long did they spend on that one? A few weeks? Bah, I've known artists who have spent centuries on a single work! And what is that? A dot on a canvas? What petty little message is that supposed to convey? Childish!"

Delessa resigned herself to another hour spent listening to the mocking of her species' greatest works.

* * *

They moved together through the streets of the lower hive, dressed in subdued clothing. Delessa had in despair gone to a movie in a forlorn hope of there being something there that would not gain the farseer's immediate scorn, but had been rewarded with the normal insults. They hadn't even stayed thirty minutes before she had just given up and decided to go see her contacts. She had decided to bring the Eldar along with her, just in case the meeting went bad and she needed support. They had both changed into something less eye-catching, and were now moving through streets of derelict buildings. She glanced over at Rodwen, and sighed at the satisfied smirk she wore. It seemed that the Eldar were victorious this time.

As they made their way down the street, they encountered a fairly large crowd. A strange pounding noise could be heard faintly, almost like distant artillery fire. The farseer's expression shifted into one of curiosity and slight apprehension as she noticed the thickening mass of humans. "Where exactly are you going to meet these minions of yours?"

Delessa grinned slightly at the Eldar's discomfort. "It's called a rave. It is a party where they play very loud music, and a bunch of people dance and do...other things. The Slaaneshi cult has been hosting a great deal of these to recruit new members, so I have had some of my agents here infiltrate the group to keep an eye on them. I'm hoping to get information on where the leader is."

They turned a corner in the road, and the faint thuds had become audible music. Rodwen gaped in shock at the writhing mass of humanity. Humans in all manners of bizarre clothing were doing something that she supposed was dancing. Delessa grabbed her by the hand, and drove towards the door of the abandoned warehouse from where the music was coming. When they entered the building, the Eldar visibly flinched from the ear-splitting noise and closely packed, sweating humanity. Delessa quickly pulled her to a corner where the crowd was slightly thinner and shouted, "Just stay here, I'll be back soon. Try to keep an eye on my mind, if you would. If you sense panic, please come and save my hide."

She got a nod from Rodwen, and turned and made her way to the location her agent had specified. She would have preferred to have the Eldar woman with her, but she had agreed to come alone and didn't want to scare away her only chance at destroying the cult without a full-scale operation.

* * *

Rodwen felt horribly exposed and alone as she lost the inquisitor in the crowd. The swirl of emotions, feelings, and sheer heat in this place was overwhelming. She sidled away from what appeared to be an inebriated human as he stumbled past her. This place was disgusting.

As she waited for Delessa to return, she swiftly grew irritated. It was hard to focus, the music was overwhelming, and the stench from the humans was appalling. She gazed around the area surrounding her, and sneered in disgust as she saw some of the beasts injecting a fluid into their arms. These humans were well on the way to being corrupted by She Who Thirsts. She decided to reflect on the day to distract herself. She felt almost bad for the Inquisitor. She had tried so hard to impress her, but nothing humanity had to offer could ever compare to the perfection of the Eldar. She broke out of her reverie as the music shifted to a quicker beat.

She listened as the song progressed, her sneer lifting a tad. The music was surprisingly...catchy. She closed her eyes as she focused harder on the intricate layers of sound. Her foot, almost on its own accord, began to tap out the beat. This quickly broke her focus, and she furiously stopped moving. What was she doing? The music was catchy, but it was still just filthy mon-keigh attempts at art!

Deciding to distract herself from the music, she looked at the writhing humans. She felt a pang of jealousy at how free and unrestrained they were. The Eldar race had to always guard against She Who Thirsts. While safe, the lifestyle was very bland. Sometimes she longed to have the human's freedom, and ability to fully express their emotions. While mulling over these thoughts, her traitorous foot began to move to the beat once more.

At first stopping in irritation, she paused. Why should she restrain herself? She had been a dancer in her time before choosing the path of the farseer, but the movements that she had gone through had always been very strict and exacting. There was no room for improvisation in Eldar dancing. Her curiosity as to what this human style of dance felt like was overwhelming. Giving a low growl, she threw caution to the wind.

She listened to the music closely, and her body began to move almost of its own accord. At first she was only haltingly imitating the humans around her, but her hips were soon moving in graceful arcs, and her arms flowed in beautifully complex motions. The dance felt amazing, and the breaking out of the restrictive forms of motion she was so used to was...liberating. She closed her eyes, and lost herself in the steady beat.

* * *

Delessa pushed her way through the crowd, looking for the spot where she had left the farseer. The meeting had gone off without a hitch, and she had a pretty good idea of where the cult leader was. She could call in the Arbites once she got back to the ship, and solve the problem before it ever really began. She grinned wanly. At least one part of this night had gone well.

As she drew nearer to where she had left Rodwen, she grew confused at the mass of people surrounding the corner. She felt a slight tinge of panic. Had they uncovered her as a xenos? She threw herself into the crowd, applying her elbows and knees liberally. She finally broke through the mass, and reached an empty space at the center. A few humans lay in heaps around Rodwen, who looked to be doing some complex form of martial arts. She was about to launch herself in to help the farseer, but stopped. She wasn't fighting, she was...dancing?

Her eyebrows raised as she watched the Eldar woman move. It was quite evocative, she had to admit. The mixture of grace and sensual movement was impressive, and a satisfied grin slowly spread on her face as she quickly linked the dots together. It seemed that her attempts to impress Rodwen may have inadvertently worked. She decided to hold back and watch the show with the rest of the cretins around her.

As the song wound down, Rodwen's eyes opened and contemptuously took in the crowd around her. She sneered at the crowd, but her expression suddenly shifted into shock as she caught sight of the grinning Delessa. She blushed furiously in embarrassment, the color reaching all the way to her eartips.

Delesssa stepped over the bodies and pulled near to the farseer. The blush grew only deeper, and Rodwen began to stutter out the beginning of an excuse, but the inquisitor just passed by, giving the tip of her ear a quick tweak. The redhead squeaked in surprise, then furiously stormed after the offending woman.

When the farseer caught up, though, she couldn't think of anything to say. How could she justify her actions? She had been caught, and it seemed that the inquisitor had finally won. She worked through excuses in her head, but could come up with none that could help. She decided not to speak, and let Delessa make the first move.

The pair walked in silence for a while, the crowd thinning out as they made their way back to the city center. After what seemed an eternity to the flustered Eldar, Delessa glanced over with a sly grin on her face, and finally spoke. "Have fun?"

Rodwen furiosly began to rant, "That place was savage and unrefined, the people filthy and the music..." she paused thoughtfully, then sighed in defeat, "Yes, I had fun."

Deciding to be a benevolent victor, Delessa simply replied, "I'm glad."

The two continued to walk for a while in a more companionable silence, before Delessa piped up again. "About those bodies around you..."

Rodwen seized thankfully upon the chance to restore her honor, and began to rant again, "Just some filthy brutes who must have been overwhelmed by my beauty. They tried to lay hold of me, but I dispatched them. They must have felt jealous..."

Delessa grinned as she let the farseer go off on a spiel. She didn't see any harm in allowing the redhead to recover her pride.


	8. Chapter 8

Salutations to all. This one is about Tybalt, the greatest cybernetic dog of all time.

This one was a bit hard to write, so feel free to let me know if I did too badly.

As always, tell me what you think.

* * *

_/ /External energy source detected_

_/ /Internal diagnostic scan initiated_

_/ /Core memory: 72% within acceptable bounds, 23% corrupted, 5% destroyed/unreachable_

_/ /Hardware: Spinal column 34% optimal, Sensors 67% optimal, locomotion 0% no response/offline_

_/ /Damage critical, commence emergency shut down, core memory being downloaded to the survival center._

Fortran shook her head as she disconnected her mechandrite from Tybalt's black box. The damage the poor machine had suffered was devastating. She looked to the various pieces of his body that remained, and began to whisper a litany to the Omnisiah. She could fix the limbs and the massive cut in the chassis, but the spinal column injury was troubling. It would take a fully stocked lab to fix that problem, and the tools available to her were not exactly astounding. She pushed these thoughts away, and instead focused on the memory core. This was the most pressing matter, according to Delessa. Continuing her litany, she decided to try and work with the corrupt data. Some of it was sure to be salvageable. She plugged into another port in the box, and added another cable to her power source. She wasn't running a diagnostic this time, so she needed a steady flow of electricity to power the the hound's systems.

She closed her eyes, and let the data flow through her connection. Fortran shuddered in revulsion as she felt the corrupted code wash over her. It felt almost filthy at times, sometimes like broken glass jabbing into her mind. The feeling of nausea faded as she orientated herself in the relatively simple mind of the cyber-mastiff. She started a code to order the raw data, separating the uncorrupted files from those that she needed to repair. When Tybalt's memories and command programs had been dumped into the survival center, they had become jumbled. She sighed in relief as the muddled strings of code at last separated into orderly lines, the good data glowing a pure gold and the corrupted parts giving off a sickly green hue.

She skimmed the surface of the corrupted data, looking for any similar portions. A flush of satisfaction went through her as she found a mostly intact memory file. She ran it through another program, this one designed to remove some of the more blatant errors. As it worked, she sifted through the rest of the pieces, pulling a few portions out that looked like they were related. This was a good a starting place as any, and she could work on these pieces next. A small icon blinked into life, asking her if she wanted to view the file. She selected yes, and was pulled into one of Tybalt's memories.

_I stand above my pack-mates. Our orders were to hold until relieved. They no longer move, though, the armor they wore cracked and torn. The foul smelling men had come, and we had fought them as best we could. They were too many though, and my pack fell one by one. I stand guard over them, and wait for any foe to appear._

_As I wait, I run a diagnostic. My locomotion has been reduced to 33%, and servos 33 through 47 are not responding. No matter. I shall hold._

_MOVEMENT DETECTED! My head whips up, as I see a figure approaching. I drag my body forward on my functioning forward legs. It shall not touch my pack-mates! As the target draws nearer, I initiate an intimidation sequence, and a low burbling growl erupts from my speakers. It halts, and brings a vox receiver to its lips and speaks rapidly. I sense a burst of data from the device, and it __seems to be through the channels my pack-mates used. I still growl, and place myself between the foe and my fallen. It may be one of the foul smelling men who had simply stolen the device._

_It clicks the device off, and looks at me. I try to make my appearance larger and more intimidating, but the loss of my rear legs and a good portion of my face make it difficult. Finally, it speaks. _"Unit TBT 3496, Tybalt, stand down. You are relieved."

_/ /Code accepted. Confirmed friendly._

_I stop growling, and slowly lay down. At last, aid has come. The human walks towards me cautiously, reaching out its hand with deliberate slowness. I do not move until it comes within four meters. I analyze the scent of the target._

_/ /Human female, 99.9% genetic pureness. No taint of Chaos._

_I attempt to wag my tail, but servo 42 still will not respond. I content myself instead by letting my tongue loll out, and stiffly rolling onto my back. She leans down, and rubs my stomach._

"You poor dear, your entire Arbites squad was destroyed," _she says, as she looks over the battlefield, seemingly impressed by the work of my pack._

"Would you like for me to take you to be repaired? I have use for such bravery."

_I yip excitedly. A new pack-mate!_

Fortran smiled as the memory ended. She pulled out of the file, and tucked it safely with the rest of its uncorrupted brethren. Another icon appeared, telling her that another memory was available for viewing. Curious to see more of the hound's life, she accepted.

_New pack-mates surround me. These ones are all women and clad in armor, and I love them dearly. My pleasure centers tingle with incoming data, and I feel a deep and satisfied joy. One of them holds a ball towards me, and throws it into the distance. Fetch routine initiated! I launch myself forward, chasing my prey. I quickly track the orb down, leaping upon it to prevent its escape. I close my teeth around it, and trot back to my pack victorious. No ball shall escape me!_

_As I reach the pack, they circle me. I feel a sense of contetment being surrounded by them, only heightened when they begin to pet me. My pleasure centers flood, and I flop onto my back. Destroy resitance (Cute) code activated. I love my pack-mates, and they love me. This is good. This is right._

The icon once again asked if she wished to see the next memory, and Fortran lost no time in selecting yes.

_I charge through the doorway, the opponents that lay slain by my pack and I only serving to excite me. This foe is much larger than the ones that we slew before, but I charge forward. The foul smelling beast shall be destroyed! I tear at the foe, nimbly dodging whatever blows are directed towards me. I savage its legs, hoping to bring it down. I hear Mistress and the strange-smelling woman enter behind me, and I wag my tail in joy. We cannot fail!_

_As they move to support me, the foe makes contact with one of his blows. My pain sensors flare, and I initiate my defensive routine as my pack moves in for the kill. I whine in sorrow as I watch the strange woman launch herself towards the foe. I wish to help, but my torso is heavily damaged, and my locomotion is at only 69% optimal. I would be a burden._

_I feel a deep fury as the foe lands a blow upon the strange woman. The defensive code stops me from darting forward and avenging my pack-mate, though, and the conflict in my circuits is horrendous. My Mistress lands the final blow, however, and my pleasure center floods. I feared losing my pack-mates again. This pleasure is short lived, however, as the foul flying abomination darts after me. Hell and damnation! _

Fortran nearly laughed at the conclusion of the memory. He was such a beautiful beast for being such a relatively simple machine. She looked over the work that she had done as she watched Tybalt's memories and felt a deep satisfaction. The vast majority of the corrupt data was repaired, and there was only one memory left. She hesitated before opening it, though. This was the last file before the hound was destroyed. With a sense of trepidation, she dove into the memory.

_Once again, the order is to hold until relieved. The foe is all around us, falling from the sky. My pack-mates are in danger! I try to snap at the foul smelling women, but my only reward is empty air. I growl in frustration. Suddenly I see one of the creatures land and strike at pack-mate Anna. None of my pack shall fall! I charge forward, and launch myself into the foe tearing at her legs. I manage to drag her away from Anna, and she is able to escape the sword of the foe. My pleasure center activates. I have helped! This is short lived, however, as a massive surge rips through my pain center. NO! I try to drag myself forward. My pack is in danger! I cannot fail them!_

_/ /System damage critical: Locomotion 22% and falling. Power system ruptured, fail-safes inoperable._

_/ /RAM shutting down. Memory core now being dumped into survival center._

_I struggle to stay awake, but my sight rapidly fades. I have failed! I at least have the satisfaction of seeing Mistress avenge me. Did I do well? Did I do / /System emergency shutdown initiated/ / well? Did I do_

She felt a strange surge of emotion as the memory ended. She put some finishing touches on the data, and patted the memory core. The tech-priestess mulled over what she had seen as she repaired the damaged body of the beast. It was a thankfully simple job, and she was able to jury rig a system that should work for the spinal column. The thoughts were still in her head as she called the Sisters over and prepared to seat the memory core into the body. As she activated the energy pack that she had fitted into his body, she linked to the mastiff's mind one last time. She sent a simple message. "You have done well. Your pack-mates are safe, and you stand relieved."

The Sisters clustered closely around her, their collective breath held. As the hound began to stir, they all gave a great shout of joy, clapping the tech-priestess on the back and offering praise to both the Emperor and Omnisiah.

_I slowly wake. As my eyes connect, I see my pack around me. This, as well as the message that awaited me, nearly overwhelm my pleasure center. I see no missing pack members, and I even see Anna laying in the corner. I stand, shakily, and launch myself into their midst. I am loved, and it is good._


	9. Chapter 9

At the request of OP, here is some more Filigree for your viewing pleasure.

In this one she tries to seduce Delessa, with predictable results.

Enjoy, and give me some feedback.

* * *

Filigree rode the waves of her orgasm, but the feeling was not satisfying at all. This had been the 5th time today, and it was really doing nothing for her. She sighed in disappointment, and flopped face down into the sinfully fluffy bed that she shared with Delessa. Well, shared when she was 'good', that is. She nuzzled herself into the sheets, trying to wrap herself in the smell of the inquisitor. It was nice for a few moments, the scent warm and comforting, but her frustration came boiling back. She growled, and rose out of the bed with her lower lip thrust out in a pout that would surpass the most spoiled noble's child.

She muttered to herself as she threw on some of the silk clothing that she had been able to nab, and stalked down the corridor towards Delessa's office. She resolved to have some words with her absent lover. Things had been great for a while once the battle over Ophelia VII had ended, and Quizzy had certainly lived up to Filigree's expectations when it came to 'kinky inquisitor sex'. The only problem was the paperwork that had soon followed the incident like vengeful Furies. The Eccelisiarchy was in a row, the Inquisition demanded information on the method by which a new god could be born, and the less said about the Sisterhood the better. Delessa had been swamped by the various organizations demanding her account of the matter, and each demanded that it receive the information first with various threats of extermination, purging, and other favorite verbs of the Imperium.

She sighed as she drew near the door to office. She knew that it wasn't Delessa's fault, and that answering the documents was probably good for the crew's health, but the poor woman had been at those thrice-damned documents for a week straight at 16 hour days. Filigree shuddered at the thought. Her punishment for attempting to seduce the navigator (With hilarious results, if she did say so herself) had been going over some of the paperwork that was periodically demanded by the Munitorium. Suffice to say that the agony was beyond anything that she had ever felt before.

Filigree slammed her fist into her open palm, resolution etched into her face. All of this work was not good for her dearest Quizzy! It was her duty to help Delessa in any way possible after all. The benefits that this 'help' would entail was only a bonus!

Her trademark smile splitting her face, she stealthily opened the door and slipped inside. The weary and hunched form of the inquisitor, an ash tray overflowing with cigar buts placed nearby, nearly broke Filigree's heart. The mountain of paper still to be done filled her with more resolve. This had to be done, for Delessa's sake. She crept up behind her target, slowly rising with her arms outstretched. Adrenaline and other less identifiable compounds sung through her blood. She hadn't been this excited in much too long! She prepared herself to pounce, when a resounding "No, Filigree" stopped her in her tracks.

With an inelegant squawk, the daemonette toppled over, landing in an awkward sprawl. Delessa irately glanced over, and Filigree could see the bags under her eyes even from her position on the floor. Determined to salvage the mission, she decided to use her most deadly weapon. The dreaded puppy eyes. Contorting her face into a mournful looks, and curling pitifully around the inquisitor's feet, she cried, "Not even a little? Pleeeeeaase?"

Alas! The might of her weapon broke against Delessa's taciturn defenses. Bowing her head in defeat, Filigree beat a dejected retreat from the office, and quietly shut the door behind her. As she shuffled back to their room, she felt a faint resolve grow once more in her breast. It would not end this way! She needed to seduce Quizzy, somehow, at any cost. The only problem was, how? As she mulled these thoughts over, a brilliant idea struck. Romance! Humans liked that romance thing, right? She never understood it personally, it just got into the way of the sex after all, but maybe she could get into Delessa's pants that way! She cackled as she moved with renewed purpose towards the ship's library. She had some research to do.

* * *

Filigree nodded in satisfaction as she looked over the bedroom that she had crafted into something no woman should be able to resist. Candles festooned every available surface, she had managed to steal some incense from the tech-priests, and some form of strange music she had found referenced was playing in the background. She hadn't been able to find roses, as the various books she had read recommended, but she had crafted some excellent replicas out of cloth and wire. If the novels that she had found in a secluded nook of the library were to be believed, this setup should have Delessa practically fainting with arousal.

With the room taken care of, there was only one thing left to accomplish. Lingerie. She had ransacked the inquisitor's closet, and had found some...interesting pieces tucked away in boxes and far corners. With the air of an artist working on her masterpiece, Filigree picked over the pieces, creating an outfit that would breach even Quizzy's defenses. With the final touch complete, Filigree waited eagerly for her prey. If Delessa followed her normal schedule, she should be walking through the doorway any minute.

Once again, Filigree felt a heady rush of stimulants crash through her bloodstream, the anticipation nearly dropping her dead on the spot. As the door swung open, she launched into the speech that she had carefully crafted from her research. "Oh darling, please clasp me to..."

She trailed off as Delessa stumbled past her, shedding various pieces of clothing, before collapsing face first into the bed. Filigree stood in the elegant pose that she had struck, a look of utter befuddlement on her face. She had done everything perfectly. What went wrong? She quickly amended her plans, and strode confidently to the prone figure. Maybe she had just been overwhelmed by the perfection of her creation? She reached out slowly, but was again stopped by the inquisitor's harsh voice, "Try it, and you get to pay a visit to the gray room for a day."

With mingled fear and shame from her defeat, Filigree went around the room extinguishing the candles, before resignedly taking her place next to Delessa. Another night of masturbating, then.

* * *

Filigree stood once more in front of the door to the office. She had figured it out this time! A massage, it was perfect! She could use it under the pretense of relieving the tension of the work, and slowly wear down her defenses until...a massive smile spread across her face as her imagination ran unchecked. Shaking her head to clear out the admittedly wondrous images, Filigree opened the door and strode confidently into the room. In a voice dripping with concern and care (She had practiced for at least an hour to get it right), she asked, "You look so tired! Your shoulders must be tight from hunching over that desk all day. Could I at least give you a massage?"

The figure before her paused in her writing, but the stern straightness of her back and the silence that greeted Filigree's plea caused the daemonette to deflate. Defeat once again. As she turned to leave, Delessa spoke, "You know, that actually sounds nice. Thank you, Filigree, that's surprisingly caring of you. Just rub my shoulders, please."

With a look of ecstatic joy, Filigree launched herself forward, and set to her task with unmatched zeal. At last, an opening! She worked her fingers into the horrifyingly tight muscles of Quizzy's back, and struggled to work the knots out. As she continued in her work, she lost herself in the heady sensations. At last, she could touch Quizzy again, and the soft sounds of approval coming from the inquisitor nearly made her orgasm right there! She was lost in this reverie for what seemed an eternity, before she was pulled back to reality by a harsh pinch. "Ow, what was that for?" she whined.

She then saw what her hands had been up to while she was busy dreaming. One had worked its way into Delessa's shirt, and the other was well on its way towards breaching the inquisitor's belt and pillaging the fertile valley the barrier protected. She sheepishly looked at Quizzy's face, and simply said, "Oops?"

She sighed as she was manhandled out of the room and dropped to the floor of the corridor. The door shut with a resounding slam behind her. Damn. She resigned herself to another day spent with her hand.

* * *

She wandered the hallways, looking for anything to get her mind off of her failures. A faint sound of clashing metal reached her ears, and she perked up immediately. That sounded interesting! She darted through the twisting corridors, moving ever nearer to the mysterious sound. After what felt like an eternity, she launched herself through a doorway, and found herself in a large training area. The twins Coral and Carol seemed to be doing some form of two-person drill while Caramel looked on. Composing herself quickly, Filigree marched purposefully towards the once-tainted sister, and watched the twins with her appreciatively. She watched the Sister out of the corner of her eye as the twins moved through the form, and a fiendish plot formed in her head. As the drill came to an end, Caramel turned to the daemonette, and politely asked, "What brings you to these parts, Filigree?"

Filigree perked up,and spoke in her most seductive voice, "Why, to see your beautiful face!"

The reaction she received was not what she expected. Caramel burst into good natured laughter, and clapped the daemonette on her back. "No wonder the Inquisitor keeps you around, you always know how to make a good joke."

Her attempt utterly foiled before it ever began, Filigree hung her head in defeat. She greeted the twins resignedly as they approached, and threw out a half-hearted pick up line. "So...your thoughts on threesomes?"

The twins stopped, and without a moment's hesitation, replied in unison, "No."

Caramel again laughed, thinking the whole affair a joke, and Filigree decided to give up seducing any Sisters of Battle that day.

* * *

Filigree passed through the hallways, her head hung in ignominious defeat. Nothing had gone as planned, and she had lost all hope of ever sleeping with anything ever again. She was wandering through the lower levels, looking absentmindedly for anything interesting. She passed a doorway with but a cursory glance, and was about to continue drifting through the corridors. A faint sound stopped her, though. Her curiosity piqued, she poked her head inside, and saw what appeared to be a laundromat.

The source of her sound became readily apparent, a massive industrial washing machine had come slightly out of its moorings. This caused it to shake slightly, and the vibrations could be felt and heard through the deck. Filigree's eyes widened, and a sudden urge overcame her. Vibrations. That had...potential. A massive grin split her face as she stripped her pants off and sauntered towards the enormous machine.

* * *

Delessa's satisfied sigh when she finished the last of the paperwork seemed to have come from the depths of her soul. At long last, she could rest. She looked to the clock, and was surprised at how early she had finished. She stood, most of her joints cracking, and slowly stretched her back. With this task finished, she decided to look for Filigree. Who knows what trouble she had gotten herself into while unsupervised.

As she stepped into the hallway, she was greeted by the sight of a seething tech-priest, shouting something about the vilest heresy. Confused, and not a little worried, Delessa quickly followed the cyborg into the depths of the lower decks. She passed through the doorway, and facepalmed as an all too familiar sight greeted her. "Filigree, what did you do this time?"

The daemon in question waved enthusiastically, completely bereft of clothing and surrounded by a pack of furious Mechanicus workers shouting tech-heresy. With a sigh, she spoke quickly to the tech-priest who had escorted her, "I will take care of her from here. My apologies, the soul binding made her a tad...strange."

Delessa worked her way through the crowd, grabbed Filigree by the ear, and dragged her back towards their room. The first portion of the walk passed in silence, the inquisitor with a slightly annoyed expression and Filigree with a very smug smile. As they drew near their room, Delessa finally broke the silence and asked the question that had been left unsaid for the duration of the march. "What exactly were you doing naked in a laundromat?"

Filigree's grin widened to nearly reach her ears, and replied, "Well, it was kind of vibrating, and I was bored..."

"Uh-huh," Delessa interjected, not needing to hear the rest of the story.

They finally entered their room, and Delessa's demeanor rapidly changed. She quickly released Filigree's ear, and twisted her arm into a joint lock. She then frog-marched the daemonette to the bed, and drove her into the mattress. She leaned over her wiggling captive, though she wasn't sure whether it was in pleasure or pain, and whispered menacingly into her ear, "Now, I do believe that I need to punish you for this little incident. That, and I've also been neglecting you. I think I can combine the two. So. Where do we go from here?"

Filigree climaxed without shame from just this foreplay. With a feeling of mingled triumph and defeat, she replied, "Oh, I have a few ideas..."


	10. Chapter 10

Salutations, readers. Sorry for how late this is, but it turned out to be 6000 words total, so it took quite a while.

This piece covers Caramel's last stand, and how she was captured by the agents of Chaos.

Enjoy.

* * *

Caramel smiled as her squad launched themselves into the sky with almost perfect synchronization and landed with a resounding crash amongst the training dummies. The Seraphim immediately began to lash out against their stuffed foes, each woman quickly dispatching her designated targets. Caramel jogged leisurely into their midst, clapping pauldrons as she entered the group, saying with a satisfied air, "Excellent job, everyone. I didn't see any problems, except a small one for you, Eve. Try to let your forward momentum carry you forward when you land. You landed a bit flatly, and the few seconds it took you to recover could mean the difference between life and death."

The Sister in question ducked her head, a blush of shame on her face. Caramel frowned slightly at this. Eve was the youngest of the women that had been put under her command to train, and the girl was always sensitive to any criticism because of it. The girl had potential, though, she only needed to stop being so self conscious. Caramel made a snap decision, and pulled her into a half hug and said reassuringly, "Just give it one more go," she then addressed the rest of the squad, "And this will be the last time. You have all improved considerably, so I think you have all earned a little free time."

Eve's blush faded, and she gave a small nod of thanks. Caramel grinned rakishly, and gave her a gentle push to follow her group. She watched with satisfaction as they chatted happily amongst themselves while they quickly jogged to the location they launched from last time. They were a good squad, especially for being relatively green for Seraphim, Caramel noted. The Argent Shroud's campaign in the Third War for Armageddon had caused a great deal of casualties,and many of the understrength squads from the conflict had been dissolved to have the veterans serve as teachers for the next generation of Sisters. Caramel had earned her promotion to Sister Superior and duty to train these women during the fierce fighting against the Orks, though she at times did not feel that she had earned the honor. Many better women than she had fallen on that blasted planet, it was only by luck...

She shook her head to clear the thoughts. The Initiates must not detect any uncertainty in her. They looked to her for guidance, and she couldn't fail them. These women were the future of the order, after all. She put the thoughts on hold as she saw that the squad had reached their launching point and were waiting for her command. Nodding in satisfaction, Caramel raised her hand, and brought it down swiftly. The women rose on towering columns of flame, and tore into their foe. Not seeing an error to rectify, Caramel walked amidst the group and directed them back to the convent they called home.

The enthusiastic air of the group swiftly dissipated as the ancient sirens housed in the convent raised in a haunting wail. The stern voice of the Prioress crackled through each of the women's vox, "All Sisters, make for the convent immediately! Watch for any suspicious activity. You will be briefed further when you arrive."

The color drained from Caramel's face, and she immediately ordered the squad into a sprint towards the squat structure that was their home. Rushing through the front gates and courtyard, the squad joined the swiftly growing mass of women that milled about in the great hall, waiting for the Prioress to arrive. Caramel felt a growing dread as the sirens continued to wail. This was supposed to be a quiet assignment on a backwater farming world. The only reason there was even a convent here was because it was a common stop on a pilgrimage route. It only had a single hive to service the spaceport, for Emperor's sake, what could be attacking them? To distract herself from her thoughts, she calmed her squad, making small jokes to break up the aura of dread that had settled over the group.

Her efforts were cut short by the appearance of the Prioress, who's presence alone calmed the madhouse feel of the massive hall. As the chatter quickly subsided, she launched without preamble into the briefing, "Hive Bremen has gone mad. The entire hive is in full revolt, and the Arbites and PDF were completely overwhelmed. We have no idea what caused this, but there have been reports of mutation and...Chaos worship," she practically spit the word out, the fury on her face evident.

She let the announcement hang in the air, and after a pregnant pause continued, "The city is already lost. We are much too few to retake it, and so we must hold here and act as a rallying point for loyal forces until aid arrives. Sister Superiors, report to me for orders. The Emperor protects, Sisters."

Leaving her squad near the massive central pillar that held the roof of the hall up, Caramel waded through the crowd towards the other side of the circular room. She joined the gathering cluster of veterans that surrounded the Prioress. As soon as the last Superior made her way to the cluster, she began to speak rapidly but clearly, "From what we've heard from scouts and from a few survivors, there is a massive horde from the hive being driven our way by...something. Light infantry, eclectic weaponry, the only danger will be their numbers. Edna, I'm going to need your flamers near the gate. Keep in the courtyard until they get close. We've got our backs to the mountain, thank the Emperor, and any attack is going to be funneled right to you. Elise, I need your Retributors on the wall, load up with heavy bolters. No armor that I know of in the horde, at least nothing that you shouldn't be able to take care of. Una, Erika, I'm going to need you to fill the gaps between the Retributors. Caramel, you are my crisis unit. I'm keeping you as a mobile reserve, and you get to plug any gaps that turn up. Everybody, I know the new girls are green, but keep them calm, sing some hymns, whatever it takes. Just keep them firing. If we falter even a bit, we will get swarmed. Ave Imperator."

The Prioress' obvious competence slowly calmed the nerves of the women around her, and each of them nodded in agreement when their task was assigned. Caramel felt a tinge of nervousness at her own duty, though, as the veterans dispersed back to their charges.. Her squad would be the key to the defense, and any failure on her part would doom the thinly spread Sisters. She had trained her girls well, but this assignment would have been hard for the Silver Winged Angels, much less a group of novice Seraphim. Caramel sighed, and pushed the doubts out of her head. They had been training for months, and she had been surprised not a few times by how quickly they took to the difficult art of assault jumping. She just had to put her faith in her squad and in the Emperor. Her squad quickly snapped to attention as she drew closer, and Caramel smiled. They would do fine. She began to quickly outline their role in the coming battle.

* * *

Caramel glanced back at the structure that she was entrusting her life to. The walls of the convent stood as solid as the day they were built millenia ago. Recessed slits spread periodically over the structure stared out over the flat ground in front of the gates. The gates themselves were enormous slabs of ceramite and other less identifiable archaeotech, and should hold up to anything short of a titan. Anything that would block fields of fire had been put to the torch by Edna's squad, and the once beautiful forest nothing but ashes for a good three hundred meters. She nodded in satisfaction, and placed a large marker on the ground. Her squad was placing the plate-like objects over the field in set intervals, so that the Sisters on the walls would be able to quickly range their weaponry. This task was interrupted by the low growl of a distant engine that quickly grew into the roar of the one Rhino the convent maintained. The inelegant box of a vehicle quickly stopped, and Una poked her head out of the commander's hatch. "Get inside, the horde was right on my heels. We've done all we can to prepare, we just have to leave it up to the Emperor, now."

Nodding, Caramel and her squad swiftly followed the vehicle through the gates. The solid boom as they shut was both reassuring and terrifying. Was it the sound of a tomb closing or safety? Caramel again pushed aside these thoughts, and instead directed her squad to drink, eat, and take care of anything else before all hell broke loose. The wait before battle was always the worst part, so it was always best to keep the everyone busy for as long as possible. She smiled faintly as she saw Eve draw Katja, another Seraphim, to a secluded nook. The two tried to be quiet about their relationship, but they were so obvious that it was honestly cute. Caramel saw no harm in it, and it certainly distracted the two from the coming battle, so she did not interfere. She seated herself, and watched as the various squads began to file out of the main abbey structure and take their posts on the wall. A grimace stole across Caramel's face. It would begin soon.

Her squad soon poured out of the building as well, Eve and Katja tagging behind looking slightly flushed. They clustered nervously around her, not having any more tasks to distract them. Deciding to follow the Prioress' advice, Caramel began singing hymns to calm them down, and the familiar strains of music began to be faintly heard from the other positions. All too quickly, however, she heard the first crashing reports of the heavy bolters. "Check you weapons, praise the machine spirits. It begins," she said calmly as she began the blessings on her own power sword and bolt pistol.

This last task complete, the Seraphim crouched in the courtyard and listened to the raging battle at the walls. Caramel longed to join her Sisters in smiting the foe, but she had to restrain herself. She would be needed soon enough. She perked up as the Prioress' voice came through her vox, "Things go well, and the gates are holding with no problem. Most of the horde is just charging blindly right into our killing fields, but it seems at least a few have brains. A group is setting up a heavy stubber back in the treeline. Kindly administer the Emperor's Mercy."

Caramel grinned and sent a terse affirmative back. Action at last! "Cowards at the tree line! With me Sisters!" she cried, the might of her jump-pack launching her from the earth. The harsh thrust of the first launch soon smoothed out into a constant push, and she reveled in the sensation of flight. She looked for her target in the split seconds she had available to her, and grinned ferally as she caught sight of figures struggling with the large gun. Cutting the power to the pack, she felt gravity over-take her, and began to plummet to the earth like a bird of prey. Her feet drove into one of the heretics, and his smashed corpse served admirably as a cushion for her landing. The rest of her squad smashed into the earth and foes around her, and the harsh bark of their bolt pistols soon ended any resistance. Casually wiping the blood from her visor, Caramel strode to the stubber the slain men had been moving, and clove it in half with her force blade. No point in killing the crew if she didn't disable the weapon after all. "Excellent job, everyone. Let's get back to the convent before their friends pay us a visit," she said into her team's vox channel.

As they were about to jump back, Caramel noticed a sudden commotion as a Chimera transport covered in heretics clinging to the hull roared by. A fiendish grin lit on her face, and she grabbed a melta bomb from Eve's belt. "Go on without me, I've got something to take care of. I'll be back soon."

The women hesitated for a moment in confusion, but they followed the order and launched themselves back at the besieged structure. Caramel watched, and waited until the vehicle had slowed down as it reached the packed mass of humanity trying to storm the gates. Her grin widening, she hit the activation rune for her pack, and felt the air leave her lungs as she was propelled towards the encumbered vehicle. She landed gracefully, dropping the bomb in her hands at the feet of one of the cultists, and let her momentum carry her forward. With a graceful leap, she again activated her pack, making sure to kick one of the heretics in the face for good measure. She couldn't help giggling as she heard a muffled whump as the bomb activated, and was outright laughing when she landed in the courtyard. Her squad clustered to her, staring in confusion as they saw their leader doubled over. "Are you hurt," Eve squeaked, rushing forward to administer what aid she could.

Caramel straightened herself and removed her helmet, and Eve stopped in confusion at the huge smile plastered on her face. Before the question could be asked, Caramel struggled to compose herself and said, "The look on those bastard's faces..." and began to laugh again at full force.

* * *

Caramel looked out over the charnel pit that the fields in front of the walls had become. The horde had tried to overwhelm the gates with sheer numbers, but the disciplined defense had slaughtered thousands of the heretics. That, and her squad's skillful dispatching of any heavy weapons or armor, Caramel thought with a satisfied air. What remained of their foe had withdrawn with the setting sun, and the Sisters were given a much needed rest. Many of them were slumped at their posts, catching what sleep they could. She glanced at her own squad, sprawled out on the rampart, and an almost maternal warmth glowed in her chest. They had done well today, and she hadn't lost a single one in the countless missions that they had accomplished outside of the compound walls.

She turned her head as she heard heavy footsteps approach her, and respectfully said, "Good evening, Prioress," as the woman joined her in looking over the wall.

The woman simply nodded in reply, and leaned against the crenelation next to Caramel. A comfortable silence fell over the two, and both left each other to their own thoughts. Caramel's head had just begun to drop forward, the weariness at last claiming her, when the Prioress spoke. "We did well today. No one lost, and that stubber shot didn't even get through Elise's helmet."

Caramel perked up, and nodded attentively. Her commander continued, "I've been getting some vox messages from a few local PDF units. They didn't catch the worst of it, so they are pretty well intact. We should expect them here in a few days. All we have to do is hold until the astropath's message to reach somebody."

The Seraphim felt a growing sense of relief. They would be able to pull this off after all. She looked to the burning hive that sprawled over the neighboring mountain, and the sight no longer caused any worry. They could hold indefinitely up here.

Then, as if fate was laughing at her sense of peace, half of the hive was devoured by an enormous warp portal. The spires buckled and folded in on themselves, and massive chunks of masonry crashed into the lower cities. Both women stared in utter beffudlement, before a shock wave knocked them off their feet. Caramel righted herself, and watched in horror as portions of the hive slowly slid off of the mountain. The Sisters who had been sleeping on the walls scrambled to their feet and joined her in staring at the pulsing, jagged tear in reality. Caramel did not know who started the prayer, but every woman swiftly joined in. It was the only thing they could do, after all.

* * *

The assault began at dawn. A filthy wave of cultists sprinted from the tree line, scrambling over the corpses of their slain brethren to reach the gates. They were met with withering fire immediately, as none of the Sisters could go back to sleep after what they had seen the night before. Caramel had stayed on the parapet, and watched her Sister's work as massive gaps were torn out of the approaching mass. She felt a wave of revulsion wash over her as the figures drew near enough to see clearly. They had been...changed. Strange symbols had been carved into their flesh, and some sported unspeakable mutations. Turning disgustedly away, she descended to the courtyard and joined her waiting squad. They would be needed soon enough, and she had no urge to watch what the citizens of Bremen had become.

All too soon, her vox crackled into life. "Daemonettes! They are scaling the wall near Elise!"

Careamel felt her stomach drop at the news. Fighting the cultists was easy enough, but daemons? Furiously pushing aside her nagging thoughts, she pointed her squad to the location, and they lifted as a single unit. Landing carefully amongst their Sisters, the Seraphim quickly began to pick off the daemons, keeping the foul things off the Retributors so they could focus on the mass of former humanity below them. Caramel blew the arm off of one of the beasts, and the thing squealed in what sounded like pleasure as it plummeted to the ground. She grimaced, and placed a round through its head to shut it up. She calmly dispatched a few more of the pink creatures, before another vox message blared into her helmet, "They are on the wall! We need support, now!"

Caramel swiftly emptied the rest of her clip into what remained of the group that had tried to scale the wall, and shouted, "With me!" as she leapt into the air to face this new threat.

As the Seraphim hung in the air, they could see the true extent of what they faced. The forest beyond the burned perimeter seemed alive with movement, and the winding road leading up to the convent was filled by barely distinguishable creatures. Caramel barked sharply, "Look to where you are landing!" to keep their eyes off of it; seeing the extent of their foe would only weaken their resolve.

What awaited them was little better. A mass of the pink savages had scaled the wall near Una's squad, and the women had stopped firing on the writhing horde below them to deal with the new threat. Caramel snarled as she watched one of the Initiates get pulled under by a pack of the daemons, and slammed into the rampart nearby. Furiously charging forward, she swung her sword in barely restrained hacks, the motions removing limbs and heads with terrifying ease. She struggled to reach her fallen Sister, but replacements for the daemonettes she had killed continuously swarmed onto the wall. Her Seraphim were also pushing into the mass of pink flesh, their bolt pistols tearing gaping wounds into the relatively soft tissue of the beasts. The foe was so tightly packed, the bolts would pass through three or four of the things before exploding. Wavering under the attack from both sides, the daemonettes tried to flee, but the vengeful Sisters purged them to the last.

Gasping for air, Caramel strode to where she had seen the woman get dragged under by the daemons, and kicked aside their corpses, looking to see if she could be saved. Caramel blinked in surprise, though. There was no sign of the woman, and the only corpses nearby were the newly dispatched daemonettes. Before she could ponder too much on this turn of events, though, her vox burst into frenzied life, "MARINES! Sweet Emperor, Chaos Marines!"

Looking over the reclaimed parapet, Caramel looked on it mute horror as hideous giants in garish armor waded through the crush of mutated humans, each bearing strange, horrid weapons. The Retributors swiftly shifted their fire, and riddled the approaching figures with bolts. There were at least twenty four of the fallen marines though, and this fire was only able to bring down four of their number. One of the marines leveled a massive cannon at the wall that Erika's squad held, and a throbbing pulse emitted from the thing. Caramel had to lean against the parapet as she felt her very bones vibrate inside her, and watched helplessly as the section exploded into the courtyard, carrying some of her Sisters to the hard cobblestone. The battle paused for a brief second, the might of the weapon astounding both sides. It had carved a bloody swath through the daemonettes and cultists who had stood in its path, and a small breach had been opened in the wall. This pause swiftly ended as the full might of the remaining Sisters hammered into the lone marine, bolter fire ripping him limb from limb. "No Sister goes unavenged," the Prioress fiercely snarled over the vox.

Caramel saw Edna's squad sprint to the opened wall, and at last realized the danger the breach entailed. Barking orders swiftly to her squad, she leapt to join the Sisters holding the breach. The flamers were thankfully keeping the horde at bay when she slammed into the cobblestones behind Edna's thin line of Initiates, and she quickly positioned the women under her command to stand in the shelter of the wall on either side of the breach. If anything made it through the gap, her Seraphim would swiftly cut it to pieces.

For a few minutes, the situation seemed to have been resolved. All too soon, though, hulking figures began to stride through the torrent of flames that Edna's squad had been pouring into the gap. With a deafening screech, the marines pounded into the courtyard, strange speakers that covered their bodies emitting sounds that made Caramel's skull hurt and teeth ache. The fallen demi-gods were terrifying, but they had walked into a killing zone. All of Caramel's Seraphim opened up at once, their bolts tearing massive chunks out of the marine's armor, many finding purchase in flesh. Backed by the additional fire from Edna's squad, the weight of fire dropped the giants one by one, and Caramel shook in both wonder and outright fear at the corpses. They had killed six of them! She noticed that the victory had not been without cost though, as she saw that four of Edna's squad had fallen to the strange weaponry the marines bore.

This triumph over the marines was short-lived, however. The brutes had served as an excellent distraction, and the horde surged forward into the breach. Edna's weakened squad laid down withering fire, the remaining flamers turning the rubble into a towering inferno, but many had already broken into the courtyard. Caramel fought viciously, her blade cleaving through flesh like it was paper. She thrust into a daemonette, then pulled the sword through the beast's torso in a sweeping hack that clove through three cultists. The fighting was quickly degenerating into a swirling melee, as Edna's Initiates ran out of promethium and bolts, and engaged the foe in hand to hand. The lack of fire meant that more cultists and daemons were flooding through the gap, and Caramel looked on with horror as six more marines began to pick their way through the rubble. She resolved to die on her feet, when she heard Edna's harried voice through her vox, "Get your girls out of here. Pull everybody back, we can't hold."

Caramel was about to protest, when she saw Edna, the lone survivor of her squad, charge directly into the breach, and detonate the remaining fuel in her flamer. The massive burst of flame filled the gap, and the horde wavered back. Weeping, she ordered the retreat to the remaining Seraphim, but before she could move, the Prioress strode past her towards the rubble and corpses that she had withdrawn from. Her vox activated once again, and the Prioress spoke in a grim but strangely calm voice, "All Sisters, fall back into the main building. The wall has fallen, and holding would be suicide. I will hold the breach long enough for you to escape."

Nodding, Caramel launched her squad towards the doors of the convent, and set up a perimeter to guard her Sister's retreat from the wall. The remains of Erika's squad, the Retributors. And Eva's Initiates streamed back through Caramel's line to the relative safety of the squat building, but a few were dragged down by daemonettes that had swiftly climbed the wall after the fire the women had been laying down ceased. Caramel fought desperately to hold back the swarm that had made it into the courtyard, but was swiftly pushed back towards the doors. She swung her blade in great arcs, cutting down multiple daemonettes with each swing, and her squad was ripping into the beasts as well, but they might as well have been trying to hold back the tide. The sheer numbers of the things ensured that their doom was imminent. None too soon, thankfully, the remaining Retributors opened up with their mighty guns, and the screeching wave of foes was pushed back long enough for the Seraphim to disengage and launch themselves into the shelter of the convent. Caramel turned as she landed to catch a brief glimpse of the Prioress fighting the Chaos Marines in hand to hand, two of the massive brutes laying dead at her feet. This sight was quickly ended as two Sisters threw themselves into the doors, swinging the massive metals constructs shut.

What remained of the squads were pouring fire into the writhing mass of flesh that had rushed forward after the Seraphim had withdrawn, and Caramel called for her Seraphim to gather to her. She counted their number, and was relieved, though saddened as well. She had lost only three in that mad melee. Gently touching the pauldron of each of her squad, she quietly said, "I'm extremely proud of all of you. A group of Silver Winged Angels would have been hard pressed to do as well as you have all done, and I am proud to have served with you. Whatever comes next, remember that."

She drew the six remaining women into an awkward group hug, and held it for a sweet, but all too brief second. "Come, we have work to do," she said softly, and the squad took positions amongst their Sisters, adding what fire they could.

The doors began to buckle from under the fierce assault launched upon them from the exterior, and Caramel had to hack at daemonettes scrambling to get through the windows. She saw a few of the remaining women crumble as lucky shots pierced their armor. Seeing that the position was nearly overrun, Caramel spoke into the vox, "Fall back into the great hall, they will get through the door any second!"

Moving without hesitation, the painfully small group of Sisters sprinted down familiar hallways, the screeching sound of the doors being breached behind them spurring them on faster. They tumbled into the wide space that they had been in only a day before, and saw that it was completely indefensible. There was no cover, and the horde could only be held so long by their bolters alone. Caramel ran through options in her head desperately, trying to think of something they could do, when Eve stumbled through the doorway, clutching a heavily bleeding Katja to her. Caramel's face paled, and she strode forward to help her young charge carry the wounded woman, as the rest of the women set up a firing line facing the door. "What happened? Where are you hit?" Caramel said desperately, noticing the steady flow of bright arterial blood spilling down the wonded woman's armor.

The two set Katja against the massive pillar that supported the roof, and listened intently as she slowly spoke, "A bolter round. It punched right through my armor, and I can't feel my legs anymore. Funny, it really doesn't hurt."

Eve looked desperately at Caramel, her eyes pleading for a solution. Caramel tried to staunch the wounds, but was pushed softly away by her patient. "No...Leave it. I'm already dead," she gazed firmly at Eve as she began to object, "No, hon, you won't be able to fix this. Give me a melta pack. I'll bring the roof down on these heretics, and buy you all some time. It is better to die serving a purpose than for me to bleed to death."

Bolters roared behind them as the edge of the horde discovered them, and Caramel slowly nodded her head, while hating herself for it. She set the charge against the massive column, and placed the detonator in the hand of the reclining woman. Katja nodded her thanks, and Eve leaned in and kissed her, tears pouring down her face. Caramel turned to the firing line, and ordered them back into the inner sanctum of the convent. It was a dead end, with only one entrance, but it seemed that this had become a last stand. She threw her final frag grenade through the entrance to the hall to buy the retreating women a few seconds, and pulled Eve behind her to follow them. She had to drag the poor novice away, and it hurt her nearly as much as it did Eve to leave Katja behind them.

As they sprinted through the doorway, a few resounding reports sounded, the bark of one of the bolt pistols that Katja wielded unmistakable, followed by a roaring explosion and the sound of crumbling masonry. The two Seraphim stumbled into the arms of their waiting Sisters, and Caramel blanched at their few number. Seven Seraphim, including herself, six Initiates with bolters, and a single Retributor with her heavy bolter. She saw none of the other Sister Superiors, and surmised that she was the commanding officer of the entire convent now. Smiling grimly, she directed the women to begin to barricade the entrance and create cover for themselves.

The powered armor that each of them wore made the task quick work, as each Sister moved every piece of invaluable furniture and relics in the room to either block the doorway or serve as a barrier to hide behind. Again, Caramel could not help smile as she noticed the enormous scale of heresy that they were committing. It was a good thing they wouldn't survive the coming engagement. Their position completed, the women squatted behind their barricades, and waited patiently for the coming battle. Caramel walked amongst them, touching each woman's pauldron as she passed. She spoke quietly as she walked, "We have a rare privelege, Sisters. Not many know the time of their death, and are so able to face it bravely. We will slay as many of these foul things as possible, and I shall be honored to greet you at the Emperor's side when you arrive. No fear, Sisters, die well."

The women looked to her, what faces that were not hidden under helmets expressing both a deep trust and resolve. Caramel nodded, and took her position amongst them. They did not have to wait long. The first few daemonettes were cut to ribbons by the concentrated fire of the Sisters, the doorway funneling whatever foe approached into a murderous gauntlet. This pattern continued for what felt like hours, a crush of bodies would try and make it over the barricades, and would be rapidly ripped apart by the massive bolts the Sisters fired.

This could not last forever, though. Caramel loaded the last of her clips into her pistol, and strode to the doorway. Most of the women around her also dropped their bolters, drawing blades to engage in close combat. Caramel planted herself firmly, and leapt into frenzied motion as the first foe crawled through the blockaded entrance. What followed was an eternity of sword work, her blade rising and falling almost of its own accord. Some of the beasts slipped around her, though, and the rest of her Sisters fell upon them, their blades not killing as quickly, but just as surely.

Suddenly, a massive figure blasted through the barriers, his bulk reducing the things to so many splinters and fragments. Caramel, reacting more out of instinct than thought, dodged his blow. She desperately parried his next strike, and fell into a blindingly fast duel with the fallen marine. His blows were almost too quick to follow, and Caramel felt herself flagging. Suddenly, his blade found a hole in her defenses caused by the weariness, and she felt multiple ribs snap as her armor buckled beneath the blow. She slammed against a wall, and slumped downward as he slowly approached to finish her off.

Time seemed to slow, and she felt an overwhelming urge to give up and simply die. She had surely done enough. Suddenly, Eve threw herself onto the towering figure, lashing wildly with her blade. The garishly colored warrior paused, surprised by the ferocity of the assault. Though he swiftly slammed his sword into the Seraphim, the act had given Caramel the will for one last act of defiance. She staggered to her feet, and plunged her sword into the Marine's side, which had been left open while he dealt with Eve. He roared, turning to strike her down, but came face to face with Caramel's bolt pistol. She emptied what remained of the magazine into the brute's skull, and the massive figure toppled over.

The horde withdrew briefly, the death of their leader cowing them momentarily. Caramel staggered forward, stopping to reverently close Eve's eyes as she passed, and planted herself firmly before the doorway. The daemonettes soon launched themselves forward again, and Caramel once more lost herself in the swing of her blade. She soon noticed an odd pattern, though. She should have died multiple times, her weary arms leaving massive gaps in her defence, but the beasts seemed to be pulling their blows. She at first puzzled over this, but then pure terror shot through her as she finally figured it out. Why she wasn't able to find the body of the fallen Sister on the wall. Why she was still alive. The beasts weren't trying to kill the Sisters, they were trying to _capture_ them. And she had not saved a bolt for her own skull. She screeched into the vox, "Kill yourselves! Save yourself, the beasts are trying to capture us!"

She desperately threw herself into the doorway, trying to buy the women behind her enough time to administer the Emperor's Mercy to themselves, but there were only a few bolts left, and many had charged with her into the fray. She heard only a few reports behind her, and wept in helpless frustration. Sweet Emperor why? Why was she being denied a proper death?

The weight of the bodies eventually won out, and she felt her sword get knocked from her grasp. She tried to rely on her fists, but the daemonettes piled on top of her, immobilizing her limbs. She tried to thrash about, but her head was rocked by multiple impacts. As she slowly lost consciousness, her last thought was simple.

Why?


	11. Chapter 11

Good evening, elegan/tg/entlemen and ca/tg/irls.

This piece covers how Evangela became a living saint, and was requested by OP. It's also about as canon as my fics get.

Hope you like it.

* * *

Evangela dodged the sword that whistled much too close her head, and responded with a thrust from her own blade. Her opponent, her fellow Celestian Hilde, laughed heartily as they traded a flurry of blows. "I'm impressed! The oh-so-perfect Evangela is too good to be fooled by such a maneuver!"

Growling in irritation, Evangela swung a mighty blow at her grinning Sister's head, and abandoned all pretense of defense. Hilde did not seem perturbed by this, and allowed the more wild blows to swing past her, keeping up a taunting tirade in a high falsetto, "Oh revered Celestian, honor me with your knowledge!"

A wild swing towards Hilde's head was the only response, which the mocking woman avoided with ease. Before she could recover, Evangela's was knocked to the ground by a body check, and looked at the blade held to her throat by her suddenly serious opponent. The two stayed as they were for a moment, before Hilde reached down and pulled Evangela to her feet. Hilde tutted as she slung an arm around her defeated foes shoulders, and said with a slight grin, "You get angry to easily, you know? It's easy to irritate you, to let your fury make your blows wild, then step into the gaps you leave in your defense."

Evangela sighed as she walked to the bench where her towel was, and replied as she wiped the sweat from her brow, "I know, I know. You just know how to push my buttons. Reminding me of all those Initiates fawning over me like I was the Emperor Himself," she released a pent breath in an irritated huff, "We call each other Sister's for a reason. I'm not special in any way, and I just want to serve with my friends."

Hilde punched her lightly in the shoulder, and replied, "Yeah, it's irritating, but what did you expect when you joined our ranks? Scrubbing out the toilets with the novices?"

A grin spread reluctantly over Evangela's face, and she couldn't help but chuckle. "Why is it that you are the only one that can make any situation funny?"

A matching grin spread over Hilde's, and she made an exaggerated caricature of praising the Emperor, "It must be a gift from Him on the Throne," she said, the fake reverence practically dripping from her voice.

Evangela burst into laughter at this irreverent display, and dragged her companion towards the weapons rack to drop off their practice blades. "Enough out of you, my favorite heretic, let's get back to the firing range with the others."

Suddenly, both women stumbled as a massive shudder passed through the ship, followed by the screeching of alarms. Without hesitation, both sprinted towards the armory, quickly locking themselves into their suits. The other two women of their squad entered the room shortly after they did, already suited and carrying their storm-bolters. Evangela's mind raced as she went through the rites to awaken her armor. This entire affair had been odd. The Inquisitor Littner, her commander for the time being, had commandeered this ship after his own had been damaged in a surprise attack and a revolt had erupted on a normally calm world. He had to scrape together an invasion force of various Guard regiments, and had launched immediately into the void. Now, when they had just entered the system there was already an attack? Something was wrong. As her suit finally came to life around her, she picked up her storm-bolter and joined her Sisters in selecting grenades and ammunition. "Have either of you heard anything? Any idea of what is going on?" she queried.

Both simply shook their heads, and she growled in irritation. If there was anything she hated more than being 'venerated', it was being left in the dark. Thankfully, the vox built into her suit soon burst into life, "Evangela, are you there?" the familiar voice of Inquisitor Littner barked.

"Yes, Alex, we are all here. What in the name of the Emperor is going on?" she said, using his first name to show her displeasure.

If he noticed her subtle jab, his voice did not show it as he launched into a tirade, "Something just tore out half of the lower decks, and engineering isn't responding. We sent out a couple of runners to see what was up, but they haven't come back. We have no idea what this is, but judging by my raging headache, it's probably Warp related."

Evangela grimaced at the mention of the Warp. No wonder that she felt so apprehensive about all of this. Chaos was behind it. The Inquisitor continued talking, "I've stationed my stormtroopers to guard the bridge, but you have been cut off from the rest of the ship by this...whatever it is. Try to make your way to the bridge, and we'll see what we can do from there."

"Understood, on our way now," Evangela tersely replied, and cut the connection.

She huffed in irritation. That really did not clarify things in the least. She quickly relayed what little information she had to her Sisters, and firmly put her helmet in place. The hull might be breached after all, so it was best to be prepared for vacuum. The others quickly followed her example, and the small group set off at a brisk pace through the abandoned hallways. The women moved quickly, but cautiously, as each corridor now could potentially hold unknown dangers.

They had made good progress, when their voxes suddenly activated again, "Daemons! There are daemons on board!" the Inquisitor's voice shouted.

"Where? What's going on Alex, be more clear!" Evangela replied, her apprehension only growing.

There was a pause, and his voice came over the vox again, this time more under control, "There are what appear to be horrors and daemonettes attacking us. The stormtroopers are holding, but there seems to be an infinite number of them," he paused suddenly, then spoke again with a deliberateness that made the pit in Evangela's stomach only deepen, "I really hate to ask this of you, but you are the closest force that I have to this unknown thing that opened up in the lower decks. Please, I need you to scout this out so we know what we are fighting."

The group paused, and Evangela relayed this information to the women. Hilde shrugged, and simply said, "It kind of sucks that this fell to us, but we don't really have a choice, do we?"

The other two nodded their agreement, and Evangela replied over the vox, "We will do it. Direct us to where we need to be. We are near the armory now."

She heard a relieved sigh from the Inquisitor, and he began to guide them through the twisting corridors of the ship. The Celestians ran into little resistance, as most of the daemons seemed to be making their way to the bridge. Those that didn't were quickly ripped apart by the women's storm-bolters. They had just dispatched a group for the daemons and were picking their way through the messy remains, when they were confronted by a heavy blast door. The other three women of her squad swiftly set up a defensive firing line facing down the hallway that they had just come from. Evangela toggled on her vox and asked, "The way is blocked. Is there a way around?"

After a short delay, the Inquisitor replied, "That's about the edge of where this all started. All the blast doors shut around the area to prevent depressurization, so you are going to have to get through somehow."

"Understood," Evangela said, and detached a krak grenade from her armor.

She gestured for the squad to take cover in a corridor that intersected the hallway leading to the door, and wedged the grenade in the locking mechanism that dominated the center of the massive metal slab. While saying a brief prayer to the machine spirits in the destructive little thing, she pulled the pin and sprinted towards where her Sisters had taken cover. Diving behind the bulkhead just in time, a sharp crack was heard, and a strong vibration rattled the floor.

Evangela was dragged to her feet by Hilde, and the squad cautiously moved around the corner, bolters ready to deal with any threats. A sickly pink light poured through the massive hole that had been blown into the obstacle, and a chittering screech could be heard faintly. Evangela's vox activated again, and Hilde said, "Nice work, Eva, but I don't think you've earned any favors with the cog-boys. I do believe that we've found our problem, though," she paused, and when she next spoke Evangela could hear the grin in her voice, "Really, people shouldn't leave warp portals laying around the place. Always causes a mess."

A series of groans sounded over the vox at Hilde's usual horrible attempt at humor, and the squad clambered through the hole blown into the door. Moving as quietly as possible, the squad made their way through the massive machinery that surrounded them. Evangela looked around her, vaguely recognizing some of the enormous structures. It seems that they had entered the engine room.

They drew as close to the pulsing tear in reality as caution allowed, and observed quietly. A constant stream of screeching daemonettes and horrors poured from the portal, making their way towards what Evangela supposed was where the bridge was. She clicked on her vox, and said quietly to the Inquisitor, "A warp portal has been opened in the engine rooms. It has torn through several decks, and the daemons you are dealing with are coming out of it."

The reply came quickly, "Is there anything that you can do to stop it? We can't do a thing, we are barely holding back the horde as it is."

Evangela glanced to the rest of her squad, and transmitted, "Any ideas of how to stop this?"

Hilde spoke up, "Well, warp portals have to be supported by something. One this small would definitely need something to anchor it to our dimension. Maybe we could go inside and kill whatever is holding it together?"

The squad stayed silent for a moment. The plan was utterly preposterous. The more that Evangela went over the options in her mind, though, the more sense it made. A portal this small would be hopefully easy to escape from, and their faith in the Emperor should keep them alive long enough to find and destroy whatever powered the tear. It wasn't like they had any better choices, after all.

"Any objections?" she asked the rest of the squad.

The other two shook their heads slowly, obviously not pleased with the idea but seeing no alternatives. "Let your faith preserve you, Sisters," she said, and charged forward towards the portal.

The others quickly followed, and they nearly reached the tear in reality before the daemons began to notice. They were much too late to stop them, though, and any of the beasts that came between the squad and the portal were torn limb from limb by the weight of four storm-bolters. The squad threw themselves into the portal, and reality sickeningly twisted around them. Evangela nearly vomited into her helmet as she hung in a strange area between reality and the pulsing waves of the Warp. She caught a brief glimpse of a group of chanting humans just a short distance away before she was dumped into a hellish landscape.

Quickly jumping to her feet, she came face to face with a gaggle of daemonettes that seemed just as shocked to see her as she was seeing them. Thankfully, she had a ranged weapon. Most of the group disappeared in a haze of blood, a few limbs flipping lazily through the air. Praising the Emperor for the high fire rate of her weapon, and turned to see if her squad had made it through. Thankfully, her small group stood shakily on their feet, sending messages confirming their health through the vox. Nodding Evangela replied, "I am not certain, but I think that I saw a group of heretics chanting in a circle when we came through the portal. It is not much, but it is better than nothing."

Hilde nodded and stepped forward, transmitting, "Sounds good to me. Lead on, Eva."

The squad arranged themselves into a wedge, and began to stride out of the depression in the land that they had been deposited in. A few more packs of daemons appeared on the lip of the shallow valley, and met a similar fate to the first group. When they finally reached the top, though, they were met with a horrifying sight. An undulating horde of the beasts was below them, while an enormous Chaos Marine sorcerer stood on a low rise, shouting commands to the mass of pink flesh and gesturing in the direction of the tear.

Her eyes widened in complete shock, and she nearly locked up, when Hilde thrust her arm out and pointed to a pocket of calm in the horde. "There, a summoning ring! We kill them, and this is all over!"

The small squad immediately darted forward, holding fire to keep the element of surprise for as possible. Evangela was surprised at how far they got before the chittering horde reacted to their presence. Screeching, daemonettes at the edge of the group launched themselves at her squad. They were cut down without mercy, their bodies pulped by the staggering rate of fire from the storm-bolters. Massive gaps were torn into the horde from where rounds went astray, and the sorcerer soon took notice of the intruders. Screeching in fury, he directed the mass of flesh at them, and only the near-constant wall of bolts the Sisters put out kept them from being overwhelmed.

The Celestians pushed forward, but their momentum quickly slowed as they had to reload while keeping the horde at a distance. "Fuck!," Hilde yelled over the vox, "We'll never reach those damn cultists at this rate."

Evangela saw her point. Their ammo was quickly running low, the storm-bolters eating magazines at a terrifying rate, and she was already loading her second to last clip. Hilde spoke again over the vox, her voice sounding oddly calm and level headed for the normally jocular Sister, "Girls, give me all of your grenades."

Staring confusedly, Evangela handed the two frag grenades that she had left to Hilde, and clicked on her vox, "You have a plan?"

Hilde replied in her normal joking tone as she threaded a strip of cloth that she had torn from her robes through the pins of the small cluster of grenades, "Since I was the idiot who thought up this plan, I'm going to be the one who sees it through to the end."

She gently brought the clinking cluster of grenades to her chest, being careful to not jerk the strip of fabric and pull the pins. "I need y'all to clear a path for me. I'm going to drop this little beauty right in that circle."

Staring in horror, Evangela realized what she was really saying. There was no way that she would be able to escape the horde after tossing the bundle of grenades, and might in fact be planning to carry them all the way into the center to ensure the success of the mission. Feeling a few tears slip down her face, she nodded, not trusting her voice to convey her acceptance.

Giving a thumbs up that was both endearing and heartbreaking, Hilde pulled one of the grenades from the strip of cloth, and tossed it into the horde that was barely being held back. The sphere smashed into the face of one of the daemonettes, arced over the group, and exploded in midair. The concussive force smashed a bloody cirlce out of the wall of flesh, and the shrapnel carved an even larger arc further in. Before the shocked daemonettes could recover, the group sprinted forward as one, their bolters smashing through the packed bodies.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one her squad mates get struck by warp lightning thrown by the sorcerer. Desperately, she emptied her magazine into the crowd before her, trying to clear a path for Hilde, who had charged forward. The woman smashed into the wall of flesh, her heavily armored frame tearing its way through with relative ease. Evangela could only look on powerlessly as the horde closed around her Sister. A few breathless moments later, she heard a muffled whump, followed by a harsh snap, and the structure of the world around them seemed to jerk suddenly. A wailing screech raised from the horde, and they threw themselves upon Evangela and her remaining Sister. Both turned to make for the gate, but her remaining squad mate was swiftly dragged under a pile of the warp-spawn. Evangela sprayed the cluster, hopefully ending her Sister's life quickly, and made for the valley that they had come from.

As she reached the lip of the depression, her already battered spirits plummeted. The gate had closed. Of course. Hilde had killed the group, and their death had closed the portal. That must have been the snap that she had heard. She looked calmly at the gibbering wall of flesh that was storming towards her, and loaded her last magazine into place. The only thing to do now was sell her life dearly, it seemed. She seated her weapon firmly into her shoulder, and was about to unleash the fury of the Emperor on the scum, when chains erupted from the blasted soil and pinned her limbs to her body.

Her eyes widening in horror, she struggled to break free, but the things held firmly. She snapped her head up, and watched as the mass of daemonettes came to a halt, and opened a path through their ranks. Understanding broke over her as she saw the sorcerer slowly stride forward, mockingly clapping at her. His powers held her in place!

She tried desperately to free herself, but almost of her own will stopped when his sliding, insidious voice reached her ears. "My my my, what a brave one you are. Entering a warp portal of your own will, fighting through a horde of daemons, and killing the cultists keeping the portal open. Truly you are one of the Emperor's finest, sacrificing so much to keep your ship and Inquisitor safe."

Her struggles slowed as he drew closer, his voice suddenly filled with a dark humor, "It's a shame that that was exactly what I wanted of you. Oh, don't look so surprised. Surely even you noticed how perfectly the events leading up to this fell together."

He tutted, counting a list off of his fingers "The empty corridors you charged through, the exact location that you were, how close you were to the portal. The very ship your inquisitor claimed to rush to the system, the cult that I had carefully secreted aboard the crew. The rebellion that you came to crush. Just. As. Planned."

The massive figure drew suddenly close, and he said in an almost sensuous purr, "All designed just to get _you_."

Evangela screeched, and struggled desperately against her bonds, the true implication of his words striking home.

The chains suddenly tightened around her, some of the plates in her armor cracking under the pressure. She could almost hear the sneer in his voice as he spoke, "Ah ah ah, no escaping. I mean, I've had to go through so much just to meet you."

He leaned in, his massive horned helmet completely dominating Evangela's view, and he sibilantly whispered, "Come, let's get to know each other better"

Evangela could only scream as her mind was ripped apart.

* * *

Alexander stood in the bridge of his ship, utterly shocked at what had befallen in such a short time. Half of his stormtroopers lay dead in front of him, half the remaining force was badly wounded, and the last portion was completely shell-shocked. The ship was barely holding together, and would not be able to bring him the relatively short distance to the planet that he was to bring back into the Emperor's light. The portal had been closed, a few brave scouts had told him, but there was worse news. He had no idea what had happened to the squad of Celestians that served under him. He began to pace frantically back and forth over the deck. He was already on fairly terse terms with the Sisterhood, losing a squad of their most holy members and greatest heroes was certainly not going to help. He cringed at the thought of what would happen if he tried to come back to Ophelia VII.

He looked over the bridge of the ship, and sighed internally. It had taken hours to repair enough damage to get the ship's major functions back online, and the invasion fleet had stalled, waiting for command from the flagship. Which, he grimaced, was quite broken. The fleet was delayed, half his retinue dead, and...

He had nearly driven himself to a heart attack when one of the few remaining tech-priests shuffled over to him, clutching a data-slate to its chest. "Esteemed Lord," it droned, "A distress beacon coded to your private frequency has been detected in one of the system's planets. It bears the mark of Evangela."

Alex's legs nearly gave out from underneath him. Thank the Emperor! The squad must have been dragged into the portal while they investigated and flung there! Stranger things had happened in relation to the warp, after all. There was no time to waste. He had to rescue her soon. If anybody heard of this, and the news reached Ophelia VII...

He shuddered, and pushed the disturbing though from his head. This situation could still be salvaged. He sent a brief message for one of the escort ships that escorted the grand cruiser that now floated dead in space to come and pick him up. The rest of the invasion fleet could go towards the planet, and he could go and rescue Evangela (And hopefully the other Celestians), and he should be back before anyone heard about it! He snapped out orders to the remaining stormtroopers, and made his way to the shuttle bay. He almost grinned at their small number. It was better that there were so few of them, the less that heard about this fiasco the better.

* * *

He stepped quickly out of the landing craft, his stormtroopers spreading out to secure the landing zone. If the tech-priest was right, the beacon was transmitting from within the ruins that they had just landed at the edge of. He glanced at the auspex he held in his hand, and swiftly set off. He couldn't afford to waste time, and the invasion was just hours away. The sooner he got back, the better.

He passed through the crumbling architecture that was being quickly reclaimed by the local fauna. The empty windows seemed to be staring at him condemningly, appearing almost like the empty sockets of skulls. He shuddered at this ominous sign, and ordered his men to move quicker. Everything about this operation had gone horribly wrong, and he prayed to the Emperor that he could at least find the Celestians alive.

They drew closer to the center of the abandoned town, and he glanced once more at the auspex. The distress signal showed clearly on the screen, and seemed to lead to the smashed structure that dominated the town square. He stood impatiently outside of the ruined building as his men swept through the rubble looking for any ambushes. A sudden cry went up, and one of the stormtroopers rushed to him. "We've found her, sir! Evangela!"

He felt a pent up breath woosh out of his lungs, and he snapped, "Lead me to her, now!" before he crumpled to the ground in sheer relief.

The trooper lead him through a few crumbling passageways before they entered what must have at some distance time in the past been a meeting hall. He caught sight of a flash of gold surrounded by the black armor of his men, and dashed forward.

He pushed his way into the center of the defensive ring, and felt all hope leave him at the sight that greeted him. Evangela lay curled into a fetal ball, her armor cracked and disfigured with Chaotic runes, blood running from her eyes, nose, and ears. She was rapidly speaking dark verses in the Chaotic tongue that seemed to tear at his very mind. He looked to the men around him. "Is she the only one you found?" he asked, his voice on the verge of cracking.

"Er, yes sir," the trooper who had come to get him said nervously, "But we are still looking! The others may be around here."

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that he knew was coming. This day just got worse and worse. He exhaled heavily, then looked to his men. "Spread out and defend this spot. I'm going to reach into her mind to see if she can be saved."

The men swiftly snapped to attention with a chorus of affirmatives, then began to take up defensive posts around him. He looked down sadly at the babbling wreck that the once proud woman had become, and kneeled next to her. He smoothed back the hair from her forehead, then placed his fingers at both of her temples. With a deep breath, he plunged into her mind. What greeted him was horrifying. He felt like he had jumped into a sea of oil, the foul powers of Chaos eagerly gripping at the tendrils of thought that he had sent into her mind. With a shudder of disgust, he withdrew. She was beyond his help. He sighed, and clicked the beacon that would bring the drop ship to them. Maybe her Sisters could cure her. Lesser miracles had happened before, after all. That, and it was better than coming back to Ophelia VII with nothing at all.

He watched as the heavy ship began to draw closer, and sighed. Nothing had gone well today. As if he had jinxed it, the ponderous craft suddenly exploded in a massive fireball. "DAEMONS! Everywhere!" came over the vox, and the air was filled with the continuous cracks of hellgun discharges as his men opened fire.

"What in the name of the Emperor is going on!" he roared, striding to one of the windows.

The sight that greeted him struck him like a physical blow. Warp-portals had opened all around the structure they were in, and a seemingly endless horde of daemonettes and horrors poured from them. His men were pouring fire into the beasts, but it had all the effect of throwing a pebble into the ocean. He shook his head, and stormed to a trooper with the squad's vox set on his back. "Hail the invasion fleet! We need reinforcements NOW," he ordered, the man scrambling to obey him.

He ran to the windows once more, and began to focus his psychic might. Roaring with exertion, he unleashed a massive wave of lightning into the massive horde beneath him. The figures screamed and caught fire as the cooked from the inside out, and his men were able to briefly push back the massive wave of daemons.

All too soon, though, the horde pushed forward once more, swarming the troopers who held in the rubble outside of the compound's walls. Growling in frustration, Alex was about to summon another wave of lightning when Evangela's voice grew into a shriek. He sprinted to her side, and saw the flow of blood pouring from the orifices on her face had increased to a horrifying stream, and her gibbering had increased in pace, the vile words trying to worm into his ears. He stared hopelessly at her. At this rate, the daemons would wash over his paltry forces and capture her. His conscience ripped at him as he realized what he had to do. He could not allow her to be captured and subjected to worse than she had already received. She had already suffered so much.

Loading a round into the chamber of his bolt pistol, he knelt next to her, murmuring soothingly. As he brought the massive pistol to her temple, he gently touched her cheek. "I am so sorry. I've failed completely, but I won't let you suffer any more for my mistakes. Rest now."

He pulled the trigger, and the bolter jumped in his hand. Not feeling strong enough to look at his handiwork, he turned and made for the window once more. These beasts would not find him and his men easy prey.

The next few minutes seemed to stretch forever, a jumbled mess of screamed vox messages, desperate retreats, and constant use of his warp abilities. He was barely able to stand when his men where at last pushed back into the room where Evangela lay in a pool of her blood. Alex glanced desperately at the vox-trooper, who only said, "They are at least an hour away, sir."

Nodding resignedly, Alex joined his men in the firing line facing the doorway. If he was to die on this damned world, it certainly wouldn't be while cowering like a child. He dredged up the last of his powers to launch into the mass of bodies that waited just outside of the crumbling arch, when a silent explosion behind them seemed to stop time. A massive wash of light washed over them, and all turned to face the center of the room.

Where Evangela had lain, a towering column of flame now rose. Though it seemed to burn furiously, it emitted no heat. Alex stared in wonder as a glowing figure stepped from the inferno, her mouth and eyes pouring out golden light. He and his stormtroopers fell to their knees in supplication and wonder as the radiant figure passed, the ground beneath her catching fire. The daemons outside of the arch stared in awestruck rapture as the figure turned towards them, and made a curt gesture. The beasts suddenly erupted into flames and swiftly turned to ash.

The men watched from their position on the floor as she calmly passed through the horde, her presence alone causing all near her to spontaneously ignite. The men rushed to the windows and watched as she continued unerringly, heading directly towards the largest portal that had opened.

A hulking figure strode through the portal, and stormed towards the radiant figure. A furious screech split the air, and the massive Chaos Marine screamed, "NO! My plan was perfect! You arene't supposed to exist!"

He strode lashed out with bolts of Warp lightning, and raised his staff to strike the glowing woman. She calmly walked through the maelstrom that writhed around her, though, and thrust her hand through the sorcerer's chest. Golden light began to spill out of the cracks and seams of the marine's armor, and a wail pierced the air. He suddenly exploded, his armor tearing into the mass of remaining daemons. The radiant woman then turned and made a vague dismissive gesture. The Warp portals snapped shut, and the daemons began to howl in pain, their shapes beginning to waver.

The woman launched herself into the air growing a pair of unspeakably beautiful wings, and hung gracefully for a split second. All eyes turned to the radiant figure, and she plummeted back to the earth. She struck the ground with her fist, and a massive shock wave of golden light and what sounded like choral music washed over the area. Alex was thrown from the window along with the rest of the squad, and slipped into unconsciousness as he slammed into a wall.

* * *

Alex woke slowly, his vision blurry. He rolled over, and saw the strange woman sitting on the windowsill that he had been thrown from. She turned as he stirred, and he was shocked to see Evangela's face looking calmly at him. "Hello, Alex," she said, her voice almost musical.

He stared in utter wonder at the glowing figure. "Did I die? Are we at the Emperor's side right now?"

Her only response was a tinkling laugh. "No, my dear, it seems that we have all survived this battle."

His confusion only deepened at this statement. "But I...killed you. I shot you in the head."

She only smiled warmly at his statement, "Oh, thank you for that, by the way. The sorcerer had completely destroyed my mind when he captured me. He used me as bait, he knew that you would rush to rescue me when the beacon activated. His plans for you were horrifying. He wanted to control your mind and use your body as a puppet. The destruction he would have wrought would be without end."

She tilted her head, and said merrily, "It seemed the Emperor had different plans, though. As I died from your gunshot wound, I felt a massive presence wash over me, and lift me up. It pushed my soul back into my body, and directed me to destroy the daemons and prevent the beast's plans from coming to fruition."

She continued to speak, experimentaly flexing her wings as she spoke, "I woke then, and you know the rest. After I released that wave of light, though, I felt the presence leave me. I still have some of the power, though so I suppose that I'm still needed."

Alex scrambled to a kneeling position, the news that she had transmitted shocking him. A living saint! He had just witnessed the birth of a living saint! He knelt before her, his head bowed in reverence. His voice full of awe and wonder, he said, "Oh mighty saint, please, allow me to serve you!"

He waited patiently for her reply, and grew confused as the silence stretched on. Glancing up, he caught a flash of movement as Evangela's foot smashed into his mouth. The blow knocked him on his back, and he cradled his jaw while looking up to the furious woman before him, asking, "Whah wah dat fohr?"

"I'm not the Emperor himself, you twit!" she growled, "Stop worshiping me! Now on your feet, there is no time to waste on pleasantries. We have a planet to save from Chaos."

He stared in wonder at her figure as she walked swiftly from the building towards the landing craft that was making its way to the ground. Things were getting...interesting. He swiftly spit out a tooth that had been loosened, and hurried after the living saint. He paused, and amended his statement. Evangela. He needed to refer to her as Evangela. She was already testy with being revered as a Celestian, and he really didn't want to make her even more angry by outright worshiping her. He really didn't want another kick to the teeth, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

Salutations. This piece is a little different from normal, and is not part of the Sororitas Quest.

It is about a day in the life of a Krieg trooper, written from his perspective.

Feedback is welcome.

* * *

The day begins with artillery. It always does. The first few ranging rounds crashed into earth, like the first few rain-drops of a coming storm, then settled into the steady downpour of screeching metal and explosions. We are buried deep, though, my brothers and I. We have learned much, often through blood and fire. When we do not watch, we dig. Always digging. It is not bad, though, much better to keep the hands occupied with work than for the mind to wander. A wandering mind is dangerous, after all.

We are fewer than we used to be. The faceless masks that greet me look no different than they did than in the barely remembered past. It does not matter. We are all brothers, no matter our number. It just takes longer to dig. Ah, the tempo has changed. The constant patter of the rounds above us fades and shifts, moving towards the brothers that toil far behind us. Are they like us? Do they dig too? I wonder over this for a moment, then grab my lasgun. It does not matter.

They are coming soon. The other figures. I know not who they are. It does not matter. My brothers join me on the firing step that has become like a home for us. It is comforting, the solid walls around us. Countless hours of labor, sweat, and blood surround us like a warm blanket. I feel at peace.

Ah, there they are. They pick their way forward through the wire that our other brothers have laid before us. Very considerate. It makes our job much easier. The steady percussion of our lasguns adds to the symphony around us. The deep bass notes of the siege mortars. The booming roar of the tank's guns. The constant shriek of shells. The music is beautiful. I do love it.

I calmly set my sights on another one of the wiggling figures. Such strange little creatures. No matter. My trigger is pulled, and the tiny figure crumples. I move on. So many today. The symphony will be playing for a long while, it seems.

My brothers also contribute to the music. My heart beats in time with the steady crack of their lasguns. Such unity. It really is beautiful. Oh! The little figures are going away. What a shame. It seems that the symphony can retire early tonight. I pull my trigger a few more times, but they soon disappear. I wonder if they have holes too? It does not matter. We will see them tomorrow.

Work again. We cannot grow complacent, after all. Even after such a good performance, we can always improve. Shovel work, knife work, earth work. Earthworks. I laugh gently. A pun! Ah, a shame that it does not matter

We eat, after this. One of our brothers returns with the great cauldron of soup. Today is good. The soup is rich, and my limbs flood with strength. A good reward for a good day. I eat with my brothers, and I am warm inside our dirt womb.

Sleep follows this. Prayer first, of course, but sleep is needed. I close my eyes, and feel great contentment. Soon, so soon, shall we begin playing again. Surely the Emperor gives us a good life. I send my thanks, and then close my eyes. It is good.

Oh, that is strange. Burning white pierces the dark sky, and drifts slowly to the warm dirt. My brothers and I go again to the step. Ah, I see the problem now. The other figures have come again. How rude! Breaking schedule like this. It does not matter. The symphony begins anew, though it takes a while for the tempo to be found. This dissonance irritates me. Surely the other figures should be ashamed!

The figures make it through the wire, and come towards our home. Insult upon injury! Ruining the symphony and now coming uninvited into our home. No matter. I pick up the shovel that has served me so well. It will do just as well moving dirt as stopping these strange creatures. They jump among us, wild and unbeautiful. I feel sorry for them. They do not know the beauty of the rhythm. I mourn as my shovel makes one of them crumble. They do not know what they lack! A shame, a shame, but it does not matter. Red work to do, meat moving instead of dirt moving. Much the same though. Always the same.

The last of the figures falls. Strange, they are so much larger here than they were there. It does not matter. We move the now still things, throwing them from our home. Such rudeness that they showed deserves a response, after all. As we finish, I look to the masks of my brothers. The ranks are thinner now. No matter, more brothers shall join us in time. We go again to sleep. I hope the figures stick to the schedule tomorrow. They would ruin the symphony again otherwise!


	13. Chapter 13

Hello again. Sorry for the haitus, lots of work at the end of the semester. This one is about guardsmen as well, but I'll get back to work on the Sororitas Quest stuff soon. Enjoy.

* * *

The trenches were deep, muddy, full of filth that was better not to look at. Home sweet home. Dirty bundles of rags with bony limbs sticking out clung to the wall at fairly regular intervals. All that remained of the glorious 35th. We were once proud, a mighty regiment of the Emperor's dominion. Now we just killed.

A bestial roar lifted faintly over the field. The dirty bundles suddenly sprouted lasguns and fierce scowls. It was almost funny, how utterly ridiculous the mixture of deadly and pitiable that our regiment had become. No matter now, a thought to be turned over in my mind during the endless stretches of waiting in between conflict. It was time for killing.

I brought my lasgun over the parapet, and smiled at the wave of green washing over the ground towards us. It was certainly an improvement over the filthy yellowish brown mud that we lived in, a shame that it was full of beasts that wanted nothing but our death. Maybe the universe really did have a sense of humor. I chastised myself, no time for humor, time for work. I brought forth the tools of my trade, lined up my frag grenades in a neat line before me, stacked the power packs for my beloved lasgun to the left of my position (easier to keep my finger on the trigger while I reloaded). Let it not be said that I am not professional.

The scraggly bunch around me mirrored my actions with mechanical efficiency. No order had to be given at this point. Extraneous things like command, honor, and anything but killing had long fallen by the wayside here. I seated my precious rifle into my shoulder, looked down the sights, and chuckled as I noticed the tick marks that I had etched into the barrel so long ago. Back when I thought a kill meant something. I was once so naïve it was painful. I settled comfortably into the shallow depression that my body had etched into the wall over the endless time I had spent here. The show was about to begin.

It began in earnest. The massive guns behind us lobbed their shells into the endless tide that rushed towards us. They weren't too accurate any more, the nearly continuous firing had completely stripped out their rifling. Didn't matter, of course, when dealing with the Orks. You were bound to hit something if you just pointed the damned things in the wave's direction. All too soon, though, their bass notes settled into silence. Not many shells left, sadly. Just meant more work for us. The Orks swept closer, and the heavy bolters sounded next, their steady whumps reassuring. Red blossomed amidst the endless field of green, and I marveled at the beauty of it all. Putting on a hell of a show today it seemed.

All too soon it was our turn. We fired as one, almost instinctively, the moment they drew within the maximum effective range of our beloved lasguns. No flowers from our work, only charred meat. The staccato cracks melded into an almost continuous roar as each of my brother-bundles went through the endless cycle of our work. Pick target, fire at the head, move on. A drill that had been beaten into us, and earned in blood. The wave staggered for a moment, paused. The fierce red light we poured into the beasts halted them in their tracks, limbs, meat, and less identifiable things flying from the horde. The moment passed quickly. By sheer weight of numbers, they pressed forward.

Grenade work, now. Mechanically, I began pulling the pins of the grenades, lobbing them, then preparing the next device for its short flight and explosive demise. Alternating men mirrored my actions, the ones in between keeping up a continuous fire to deal with what stragglers were not torn to shreds by shrapnel. Again the wave paused, but all too soon it churned forward. Now bullets answered our scorching light, and the mud around us almost danced with the endless storm of shells.

Persistent today. No matter. I continued to throw my grenades, now pausing for a brief moment before throwing them to burn up some of the fuse. I could now see the ugly faces of the brutes screaming their hatred at us. A shame really. It was much prettier when they were just an endless green carpet on the horizon. Now the mighty guns behind us boomed again, adding their fury to the weight of our fire. Some of the shells landed amongst us, damn those barrels, but many more landed amongst the savage bastards.

They swarmed over the remains of the first trench that we had built so long ago, no more than a shallow ditch now. What scraggly clumps of razor wire that remained were quickly shoved out of the way, and I felt a brief flare of surprise. They weren't retreating this time. I smiled grimly. I was wondering when this would happen. The last of my grenades sailed into the horde before me, and I picked up my lasgun. A nice enough day to die, I mused. I switched from single shot to full auto. It was almost liberating (I couldn't even remember the last time I was able to do that). I looked over the endless field of green that now rushed over our lonely trench and smiled. At least I got to see the ground covered in green before I died. I held down the trigger.


	14. Chapter 14

Another apology is in order. I've been working a lot this summer, so my writing has suffered.

Well, this one is about a dreadnought from the Lamenters watching over his slain. I've tried to avoid the normal Marine Mary-Suedom. Enjoy.

* * *

I trudge through the mud, my massive weight driving my legs deep into the filth. Camera #4 pans, and I gaze at the corpse that I carry in my claw. It is strange how small he seems now, without the vibrant energy that so distinguished him. Camera #2 focuses on our destination, and a deep well of sorrow opens in me. A row of figures in identical armor lay under the burned out wreck of a Thunderhawk, the corpse that I bear the last of them. Brother Sergeant Mathias. There are few like him left in our ranks, and his loss is a blow that I fear we may never recover from.

With a last hiss of hydraulics, I reach the end of the line of corpses and gently set my burden alongside the others that I have carried so. I struggle to be as careful as I can with my claws, more designed for rending the foe than careful manipulation, and try to array him properly. After a few agonizing minutes, I raise myself and look upon my work. Though my esteemed brother deserves far better, I have at the very least laid him out in a manner that is not dishonorable. The roar of my engine settles to a steady throb, and I look at the Marines that had come with me to this accursed planet. They died well, my brothers. They had made the best of a mission that was a disaster from the start, even accomplishing their goal. The cost was too high, though. A deep and resonant noise sounds from my speakers, the closest I can come to a sigh in this body. It was always too high.

* * *

The Lamenters are a dying chapter. Though we serve well and honorably, misfortune steadily claims brothers, and we cannot replace them fast enough. Our veterans die before passing on their knowledge, our captains before they truly mature, and our neophytes before they even earn their armor. We grew so desperate for bodies that I was awoken from centuries of slumber to strike the last blow against a massive Ork Waaugh. We had fought for decades against the beasts, blunting their attacks and diverting them away from Imperial worlds, all at a terrible cost. Cruel fortune struck down many, but it seemed that she finally smiled upon us when the warboss' ship suffered a major malfunction and dived into an uninhabited death world. We leapt at the chance and I was thrown into the fray, the hope being that my presence would make up for the pitiable numbers that we were able do devote to the mission.

Fortune quickly abandoned us, though. Our Thunderhawk was smashed out of the sky by a lucky shot, the hit instantly killing the serf crew. The crash itself stole two of our brothers, with the added problem of landing in the middle of the Ork mob that attended to their ruler. We had to fight our way through this throng, barely recovered from the jarring landing. Another three brothers fell in this desperate melee before we reached the beast itself. It was a grim fight, as the Ork had grown almost as large as I, and its strength was truly something to behold. That same strength struck the rest of my brothers down. Their deaths were not in vain, praise the Emperor, and the beast weakened, allowing both Mathias and I to strike the final blow. Mathias cut through the mechanical leg of the monstrosity with his power sword, and the distraction allowed me to lock my claw around its head. The beast was truly a fearsome representative of its species, as it took the enormously powerful servos of my arms a few seconds to crush its skull. Those few seconds were all it needed.

With a final burst of savage strength, the beast brought down its axe, smashing Mathias in the dirt. I watched on in horror as the last of my brothers, the last who had served with me when I still walked on my own two feet, crumpled. I do not remember what followed after I watched his icon blink from green to red in my helmet. All I know is that I eventually regained my hold on reality surrounded by the scattered corpses of these lesser beasts. These slain were not enough to honor the death of my brother.

* * *

I turn my attention back to the bodies of the fallen. Friedrich, so young and full of promise. A Nob had claimed him, though he was able to kill it before he died. Cavarinus, the master swordsman. He had held off the horde so that we could close with their leader, and died with a pile of the foe around him. Labienus, the single Devestator who could be spared for this mission. It was his rocket who had struck the warboss in the chest, weakening it enough for us to avoid its blows and draw close. The beast's vengeance had been swift and brutal. In turn I looked at each of my brothers, remembering their stories and their deaths, the best I could do for them right now. I would give this account to our captain upon his battle barge when he returned, to be written in the great tome of the ones who had passed.

I turn my bulky form from them and face outwards under the pretense of watching for the return of any Orks. In reality, looking at them was simply too much. My mind wanders, though, and it invariably draws itself to the doom of my chapter no matter how I try to distract it. A great anguish fills me as I look up to the stars. The vox that could reach the captain's barge had been destroyed in the thunderhawk and I had to simply wait until he returned, which could be weeks. All I could think about was the broken bodies behind me, and my only task was to protect them. I cursed this fate, as it allowed me to think of only the death of the only thing that mattered to me. I had slept before, waking only to do battle before being released into gentle oblivion once more. No time to think, much less have to deal with the thoughts that besieged me. Truly I had suffered the worst fate of all of my brothers. I was cursed with time to think.


End file.
